


Darkspawn & Diatribes

by redactedcryptid



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Canon Divergent, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Slow Burn, Suggestive Themes, depictions of violence and gore, violent themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-10
Updated: 2020-01-04
Packaged: 2020-08-14 01:16:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 100,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20183836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redactedcryptid/pseuds/redactedcryptid
Summary: Her heart raced at the exertion the duel brought upon her, and the adrenaline coursed through her veins like a fire untamed. Her breath came in heavy gasps, sweat trickling down her brow, and yet Brielle did not move, she did not falter, and she did not lower the blade which rested beneath Loghain’s chin, tilting his head upward so that she might look at him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Images for [Brielle](https://66.media.tumblr.com/38094ef9a2c783f2fec3220228aaee8c/tumblr_pqt3qeSG861wd0a6vo1_540.png) [Mahariel](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/EMSSs4bWwAAoN9D?format=jpg&name=large).

It was over.

Her heart raced at the exertion the duel brought upon her, and the adrenaline coursed through her veins like a fire untamed. Her breath came in heavy gasps, sweat trickling down her brow, and yet Brielle Mahariel did not move, she did not falter, and she did not lower the blade which rested beneath Loghain’s chin, tilting his head upward so that she might look at him.

“I...yield.”

He, too, breathed heavily, shoulders heaving. Loghain fell to his knees the moment he knew he was bested by the Dalish Warden, and though she forced his gaze to hers, icy blue eyes refused to meet hues of a warm and kind blue. Behind her, stood her companions; Alistair stared down at him in cold triumph, his lips curved into a sort of sneer, while the two women, Leliana and Wynne, looked at the Warden in concern. 

The elder of the women, a mage, raised her hand, a healing magic floating from her fingers to encircle the elf, the spirit-blue haze dancing over each cut and abrasion upon Brielle’s skin. It flowed together seamlessly, healing her from the damage Loghain might have caused, and she could feel relief slowly spread from her core to the ends of her limbs, relieving the tension the Landsmeet thrust upon her. It was over, and Brielle could finally breathe again.

“What are you waiting for, Brielle? Finish him.”

She could hear Alistair speak, but it felt muffled, as though spoken through a barrier. Instead, her eyes were fixed on Anora, who stood a bit back from Brielle and Loghain, her demeanor calm and commanding, yet the fear in her eyes could not be hidden. She watched her father, knelt on the ground at the mercy of Brielle, one of many he had wronged over the year passed. It was within the Warden’s right to execute him, but a part of her dared hope that her father might be spared.

“I am at your mercy,” Loghain said, and Brielle tore her gaze away from Anora to settle upon Loghain again. This time, he looked at her, unwavering. His face was set, his expression stony, and yet willing to accept whatever punishment she was to give him, whether it be death, or something else entirely. 

Brielle was silent, contemplating her decision. Alistair would have him executed immediately, without hesitation, and that was why Brielle dueled in his stead. Though she had every reason to want to lop his head off right then and there, she stayed her hand. _To kill him would be a waste_, she thought. _Ferelden’s greatest commander lost? I could use someone like him…_

“I accept your surrender,” she said, the command in her voice absolute, drawing the attention of the crowd surrounding. “Rise, Loghain. I have use of you, yet.”

Her eyes flickered back to Anora, and she could see her shoulders slouch in a relieved sigh. The nobility murmured around her, as though the thought of Brielle keeping him alive was a scandal, and yet she paid it no mind. She was Dalish and cared not for what the shemlen thought of her. And she was a Grey Warden, one of two who were wronged by Loghain’s betrayal at Ostagar, and one of two fit to punish him.

“Brielle, I didn’t hear what I thought I heard,” said Alistair slowly, and yet she did not turn to face him, her eyes fixed on Loghain as he slowly rose to his feet before her. She could see the annoyance in his eyes, as though exasperated that she did not just end him then, and a hint of a smirk settled upon her lips.

“You heard what you heard, Alistair,” she replied coolly, glancing over her shoulder, unsurprised to see anger settled upon his features. From a door leading away from the hall entered the Warden Riordan, as though on cue, striding purposefully toward Brielle. His eyes were fixed on Loghain, opportunity in his expression, and Brielle wondered whether he had the same thought that she did regarding the disgraced Teryn. The silence that hung in the air at his arrival was thick, and he greeted Brielle with a curt nod, before looking at Loghain again.

“Might I suggest something?” he asked, though whether nor not Brielle allowed him to speak, she was certain he would regardless. He paused, however, waiting for affirmation, and she nodded, watching him intently.

“Why not conscript him into the Grey Wardens? We could use a man of his, _ehm_, talents, among our ranks.”

Behind them, Alistair scoffed indignantly, and Brielle and Riordan regarded him quietly, the former’s lips curving into a deep frown. If she knew Alistair as she thought, there was likely to be an eruption of anger aimed directly at her. _Creators_, give her patience.

“Joining the Grey Wardens is an honor! It shouldn’t be left to the likes of a murderer like _him_!” He pointed heatedly at Loghain, a fire in his eyes that she had never seen before. Trepidation settled in her gut at the argument that was about to arise, but as the woman who led them both, she was not about to back down from her thoughts. Alistair had never been eager to lead them when it came to using the treaties to gain allies against the archdemon, but of course, when the plan to add a seasoned commander to their ranks to help grow the Wardens arose, _now_ he would step up.

At his words, she scoffed, wiping her blades on her trousers before slinging them across her back again. “An _honor_? Alistair, there was no honor when I joined; the choice was either to become a Warden or _die_.” She could feel her own anger flaring, her cheeks warming as blood rushed to her skin, and her voice threatened to rise if she did not keep it in check. “Do you remember the men who died in my Joining? Daveth was a _cutpurse_. As far as I’m aware, that’s not exactly an honorable way of life.”

Alistair was barely keeping himself in check. Behind him, Leliana and Wynne watched in concern, but said nothing. There was hesitation in their eyes when they glanced at Brielle, as though to ask _Is this wise?_ but she ignored them. The fate of the Grey Wardens did not exactly concern them, and she could only hope that when she explained herself later that they would understand.

“So that’s it, then,” Alistair said stiffly, his own rage barely contained. His sword raised, pointed directly at Loghain. Brielle moved, placing herself between the blade and the teyrn, eyes flashing; she had bested him in honorable combat, and for Alistair to kill him regardless, _well_, Brielle would not allow it.

“It is.” Her shoulders were squared proudly, and though Alistair towered a good deal above her, he still quaked beneath her steeled gaze. He was furious, and he wanted to shake some sense into the woman he thought his closest friend, but she was as stubborn as anyone he had ever met.

“Then you’ll be doing this without me, Brielle,” he said. “It was either Loghain, or me. And you chose _him_.” His blade was withdrawn, the metal grating against the sheath, and he turned on his heel, departing the main hall in a rage. There was a hollowness in Brielle’s chest at his departure, and she vaguely wondered if she would ever speak to him again because of this. Her frown was deep, and the anger in her eyes subsided into sadness, but she was very aware of the gazes of dozens upon her, awaiting her decision. She could mourn later; now, she had a duty.

“Loghain Mac Tir,” she called, her voice booming over the hushed whispers that had arisen amongst the nobility. The sudden silence as each conversation immediately dropped was deafening, and she turned slowly on her heel to face Loghain once more, glaring daggers into equally cold blue eyes. “I hereby invoke the Rite of Conscription. You will undergo the Joining _tonight_.”

He was not pleased, but his head bowed, accepting his fate. Riordan gave her a nod of approval, though she felt as if a dozen halla had trampled her into the ground. Sincerely hoping that she did not make a mistake, she let out a long, deep sigh, casting her gaze aside, seeing the palace guards, strewn dead across the floor.

“I will see you tonight, Loghain. Riordan, prepare the ritual, and I will meet you.”

He nodded, placing his hand on his breast in a salute, before exiting the hall the same way Alistair had fled. Anora signaled her men to take her father to a holding room until he was summoned, and when Brielle caught her eye, she nodded briefly, the look on her face indicating she wanted to speak later. Brielle inclined her head in turn, before the Queen departed to her own quarters to recover from the day’s harrowing events.

“Brielle, are you alright?”

Wynne’s gentle voice reached her, and she could feel herself slouching forward as the nobility exited the chamber as well, exhaustion overtaking her. She was startled to see how her hands shook, and there was a prickling at the corners of her eyes now that the adrenaline wore off. A small hand rested on her shoulder, and Brielle was vaguely aware as Wynne escorted her away from the hall as well, escorted by a guard who would lead them to a private room for her to recover.

_Damn shemlen and their damn shit._

\--------

Brielle sat at the edge of her bed, within her hand a picture. Leliana and Wynne left her alone for the remainder of the day, allowing her time to regain her strength for the ritual that evening. So much had happened over the course of the last few days that Brielle was amazed that she managed to keep it together thus far, but she could feel the strings of her mental well-being fraying. She couldn’t wait until this whole damned quest was over, but even though the Landsmeet had officially concluded, the archdemon was still at large, and the Blight was still very much a threat.

Her thumb traced over the picture in her hand. It was a drawing by Surana, another Warden recruit that she had rescued from Kinloch Hold. Her Joining was already completed, after she broke Riordan out of Rendon Howe’s estate, and she was well on her way to climbing the ranks of the Warden order, even if in Ferelden, there was no such thing at the moment. Regardless, she had a gift for art, and had drawn Brielle and Alistair in secret, while the pair of them laughed at a stupid joke he had told her. It was a sweet gesture when Surana gave it to Brielle, and it was the first step in deepening their own friendship. The drawing was something Brielle always held close to her, but now, it was something that caused her deep pain.

A soft knock on her door brought Brielle from her thoughts, and she set the drawing on her bedside table, picking up her nearly forgotten cup of whiskey and downing the rest swiftly. It was no Dalish alcohol, but it would do for now. With a sigh, she dragged herself to the door, still weary from the day, and dragged the back of her hand across her mouth, wiping away the remnants of her drink. With a grunt, she pulled the door inward, nearly jumping when she came face to face with Queen Anora.

“I apologize for my sudden visit,” she said with a soft smile. “But I wanted to thank you, personally, for sparing my father.”

Brielle’s mouth opened and shut several times before she cleared her throat, standing aside to wordlessly invite the Queen in. She felt a bit stupid for her lack of tact, but the gentle expression on Anora’s face led her to believe that she understood exactly how exhausted she might have been.

The room was lit by a slowly fading fire on the far right, and Anora stood in front of it, the light casting a warm glow on her face. Brielle slowly made her way toward it, coming to a rest beside Anora, and the pair stood in silence for a while, unsure as to what to say next. Brielle wasn’t feeling particularly vocal, and perhaps Anora sensed that, for after a soft sigh, she turned her attention back to the elf, her eyes sad as she looked at her.

“I cannot imagine what it took for you to spare my father,” she said, and Brielle quickly averted her gaze. “My future husband still….” She paused, a darkness crossing her face. “He still pouts, I suppose, but if he is anything like his brother, I believe he will come around in time.” She fell silent, awaiting Brielle to speak, but her words did not come. “You would do well to have my father in your ranks, Warden Mahariel. For all that he has done, he is still a brilliant commander, and will help your cause as well as he can.”

Brielle nodded stiffly, running a hand over her face. “He’s acting like a child,” she finally said, her voice colored with annoyance. “His need for revenge is stronger than his willingness to help the Grey Wardens. I should have known better than to push him into kingship. I am sorry.”

To her surprise, Anora laughed, and Brielle looked at her quizzically, surprised that it was a genuine thing. “Brielle, who do you think actually ran the country while Cailan was king? _Him_?” Brielle thought back to the time when she met the man at Ostagar, and she had to admit that Anora had a point. Cailan presented himself as a foolish man, at least to a stranger of the Dalish, and as far as she knew, politically he was not always wise. He had fought on the front lines at Ostagar, after all, despite warnings against such. She remembered calling him a fool to Loghain’s face hours before her Joining, and while his words might have spoken disapproval to her directly, she could see in his eyes that he had agreed.

“You do have a point,” Brielle admitted. “I’m afraid my knowledge of shem--ahem, _your_ politics isn’t very familiar to me. Dalish don’t normally meddle in the affairs of humans. I suppose the Creators decided it was time for an outside opinion.”

Anora nodded, and the pair fell silent again, looking into the fire. Brielle knew the time for Loghain’s Joining drew near, and she did not want to be the person to tell Anora that she was not allowed at such a sacred event. She was a wise woman, however, and Brielle could only hope that she had sense enough to allow the Grey Wardens their ritual.

After a minute or two, another knock on the door interrupted the silence. Brielle approached swiftly, pulling the door open not a second later. Warden Surana stood in the doorway, her hands clasped behind her back, dark brown eyes fixing on Brielle’s steadily.

“Riordan says it is time, Brielle,” she said. Her features were an impassive mask, her expression unreadable. Her gaze flickered over Brielle’s shoulder, fixing on the Queen, and she inclined her head in greeting, her lips pulled thin.

“My apologies, Your Majesty,” she said, running her hand over her coiled hair. It had grown quite long since Brielle had taken her from the Circle, and the coils would soon need to be pulled back to keep out of her eyes. She was unaccustomed to it, but liked it, nonetheless, and it became a habit to push it back when speaking to a person of authority. “Warden Mahariel must be present for the Joining.”

Anora nodded, her hands clasped before her. “Of course, Grey Warden. Maker guide you.”

Brielle and Surana both bowed and quickly left, starting down the hall at a brisk pace. Riordan told Brielle of the room earlier in the day, and Surana had been with him for the better part of the afternoon, helping him prepare. Though Surana was a great deal taller than Brielle, and it took her twice as many paces to keep up with her, Brielle raced down the hallway impossibly fast, giving even Surana pause.

“Are you alright, Brielle?” 

It wasn’t until she was halfway down the next hall that she realized she left Surana in the dust, and she stopped, awaiting her friend. When she caught up, they resumed their pace, though slower and more relaxed, but that did not stop Surana from noticing the tension in Brielle’s shoulders as they went on.

It was a moment before Brielle finally spoke. “Did I do the right thing, Hela? Should I have just killed him then and there?” Her voice quaked with the stress and sadness of the day. Surana knew how close she and Alistair were, and she couldn’t imagine how Brielle felt at his departure. She imagined the pain was akin to Leliana leaving _her_, though not quite in the same way.

“I think,” Surana said, choosing her words carefully. “That it was a quickly made decision that should have probably been thought on, but ultimately, it is good for the Grey Wardens to have him.”

“_Heh_.”

Surana pursed her lips, then continued. “Had you executed Loghain, we still would have lost Alistair to the throne. At least now, there will be one more Grey Warden in Ferelden to fight in this Blight.” They turned the final corner, the double doors to the Joining room at the end of the hall. They approached silently, the only sound echoing in the hall being their footsteps against the cool, stone floors. Surana’s words did have merit, and they did help Brielle feel better about the situation. She only wished Alistair would have better understood her reasoning behind her decision.

“He’s not going to get along with anyone,” Brielle said as she reached for the door, a wry grin on her lips.

“I don’t know,” Surana answered, her hand on the other door, raising her brows. “He _is_ Ferelden; the mabari is sure to love him.”

Brielle snorted, and together, she and Surana pushed the double doors inward, letting themselves into the Joining room. Riordan was there, his back to the fire as he poured a small vial of what Brielle could only guess was darkspawn blood into the ceremonial chalice. Surana took her place at his right side, hands clasped behind her back, and semblance of mirth from their conversation replaced with cold calculation. Loghain stood to the left of the room, arms folded across his chest as he waited, impatiently, for the ritual to begin, and Brielle shut the door behind her, striding across the room with purpose.

She gestured for Loghain to stand before her, and he did as was instructed of him without protest. His face was unreadable, unless anger was his typical reaction to anything, and as far as Brielle could tell, it was the only expression she had ever seen on his face. She nodded, turning away, and Riordan took the chalice into his hands, the ritual beginning.

“Join us, brothers and sisters,” he said, handing the chalice to Surana. “Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant.”

Surana took the cup, striding toward Brielle proudly. “Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be forsworn.”

Brielle reached out as she approached, the cool metal of the chalice felt even through her gloves. She could feel the weight of what was about to happen even on her own shoulders. “And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten.” She turned to face Loghain fully, holding out the cup. He took it from her, fingers brushing against hers. Their eyes locked before he took a drink, and she said the final words:

“And that one day, we shall join you.”

It was then he brought the chalice to his lips, drinking deeply of the darkspawn blood. He only had a moment to hand the cup back before the darkspawn blood took hold, and Brielle quickly passed it to Surana as he choked. Brielle saw not but the whites of his eyes, the rattle of his breath in his throat, and she watched as he swayed on his feet before tumbling backwards, landing with a heavy _thud_ on the floor. 

Twice now, she had watched the Joining firsthand, and twice now, it sent a shiver down her spine. Riordan joined Surana, and Brielle fell to the floor beside Loghain, brushing aside his hair to feel for a pulse. It took a moment, but she felt the slow, steady beat of his heart beneath her fingers, and though it was shallow, she could hear him breathing easily enough. A sigh of relief passed through her lips as she bowed her head, and she ran a hand through her hair before looking toward the others.

“He survived,” she said, looking back at Loghain. “Hela, inform Anora that her father lives.”

Surana nodded, saluting, and exited the chamber quickly as Riordan approached the unconscious man and kneeling elf, watching them curiously.

“Do you intend to stay until he awakens?”

Brielle hesitated before nodding. “I was the one who conscripted him. It’s my responsibility to make sure he gets his bearings.”

Riordan regarded her for a moment and nodded. “Very well. Maker bless you, Warden Mahariel.”

“And Creators guide you, Warden Riordan.”

\--------

It felt like hours before Loghain stirred, and hours more before he came to. Brielle made use of her time browsing the books lining the shelves of the room but found little more than Chantry teachings and biased histories. She briefly considered taking a short nap, but how would it look on her to have Loghain awaken while she slumbered on? She knew as well as anyone that should she close her eyes, it would take the gods themselves to rouse her from her slumber.

Hearing him groan, Brielle replaced the book she had skimmed back in its dusty spot on the shelf. It was a cookbook of a Ferelden variety, and many of the recipes she discovered did sound quite tasty. She made a note to sneak it out of the palace when they finally left Denerim. With a sigh, she approached Loghain, who slowly sat up, his hand running over his face, a pained expression marring his features.

“How are you feeling?” Brielle asked, and it was a moment before he addressed her, his eyes having trouble focusing.

“I feel like I drank the night away,” he said gruffly, his voice hoarse. “Drank the night away, only to be trampled by Ferelden’s finest warhorses.” 

Brielle hid a grin behind her hand, coughing to mask her chuckle, but Loghain eyed her, seeing right through her ruse. She remembered what the Joining felt like, and she would be hard pressed to forget how long it took to shake that feeling. She was surprised that she managed to survive the assault on Ostagar, even before they reached the Tower of Ishal.

“It passes,” she said, offering him a hand up. He promptly brushed it away, rising to his feet with difficulty, and though it seemed he had his footing, his face promptly paled and he swayed forward, forcing Brielle to rush to his aid. She caught him, lodging herself beneath his arm, and she felt his weight heavy on her shoulder, his breath coming in deep heaves.

“Maker’s breath,” he wheezed unhappily. “Is this what you lot deal with every time?”

“That and the archdemon nightmares,” she replied coolly, placing a hand on his breastplate to help him straighten himself. “Welcome to the club, Loghain.”

He grimaced, jaw clenching. “Maybe you should have just killed me, anyway,” he grumbled, running a hand over his face. Sweat beaded on his brow, a testament of what he had just gone through. Brielle knew it all too well, and she helped him to a plush chair in the corner of the room, letting him rest. She untied a wineskin from her belt, handing it off to him, and he looked at her suspiciously, unwilling to take it.

“If I wanted to kill you,” she said flatly, uncorking the skin, “I would have done so at the Landsmeet. But if it makes you feel better, here.” She took a long drink from the skin, passing it back to Loghain, who took it, though not entirely persuaded. Still, he muttered a quick _thanks_ before downing the rest of the contents in a single gulp. Brielle leaned against the table beside him, staring into the fireplace that was very nearly dead, the last flickers of light casting a glow on her skin.

It was a moment before either of them spoke, and Loghain handed Brielle the empty skin. Again, his hand brushed against hers, though neither of them actually noticed, and Brielle returned it to its spot on her belt, making note to have it refilled. 

“So, what, then?” Loghain asked. “What’s next?”

“Redcliffe,” she answered, glancing at him, and she could see his face harden. “Arl Eamon wants us to gather with his forces so we can plan for our attack on the Archdemon. We just…” she paused with a sigh. “We just don’t know exactly where it is.”

Loghain grunted with a derisive roll of his eyes. “Isn’t that what Wardens are supposed to do? Find the archdemon?”

“I’ve been a Warden for all of a year,” she said defensively, her anger rising. “I have no fucking clue, and if it weren’t for _you_, I might have been a bit more knowledgeable about it.”

He opened his mouth to retort, but thought better of it, knowing she was right. “You have...a point,” he said.

“I have many points,” she sniffed, frowning deeply. “And once you’ve recovered from this, I’m going to let you have it.”

He chuckled harshly, almost sarcastically, running a hand over his hair. “Lucky me.”

“Yes,” Brielle said, eyes narrowed. “Lucky you.”


	2. Chapter 2

The next few days brought little respite as Brielle and her company gathered what supplies they could for their journey back to Redcliffe. True to his word, Alistair would not be joining them, and though he passed Brielle in the halls several times over, he pretended that she was not there, except when Loghain was in tow. Then, he looked positively murderous. Of course, the feeling was mutual, at least in Loghain’s case, and while Brielle made sure to keep her gaze straight forward, her shoulders squared and proud, it did not stop Loghain from glowering at him from behind her back, like a giant bodyguard daring him to fight.

Her companions were none too thrilled that they had a new member, either, but they kept their mouths shut and respected Brielle’s decision. The only person to see any good in Loghain’s presence was Surana, and while she did not particularly like him either, she was polite enough, as they were now part of the same order. Brielle could sense a lecture from Wynne as obviously as she could sense darkspawn, and Zevran made a joke at one point about Brielle having a knack for recruiting people who tried to kill her. Of course, a murderous stare from Loghain shut those jokes down almost immediately, but it would be something she would remember, next time Loghain gave her any issue.

It was nearly a week after the Landsmeet that Brielle finally was ready to depart, and Loghain was well enough from his Joining to march for days at a time. Each of them took what rest and food they could, and Anora was more than willing to supply every one of them with the items they needed for their journeys. She seemed especially grateful to Brielle for sparing her father, though she did not say much of it in public, but whenever she and Brielle held a private audience, it was always prefaced with thanks. Brielle merely stated it was her duty as a Grey Warden, but Anora insisted that she take some sort of reward for what she did. She was stubborn, and as far as Brielle could tell, her father’s daughter, there was no mistaking that. She finally wore her down, and Brielle agreed, if only to gather more supplies for her company. Shemlen rewards did nothing for her, unless it was a fine pair of daggers she could wield in battle.

The morning to leave arrived quickly, and Brielle was up, even before the dawn came. She grew more and more nervous by the day, and the Blighted dreams the taint caused within her kept her awake more than anything else. Often, she could hear Surana and Leliana from the room over when they affected Surana as well; Leliana often sang Surana back to sleep, comforting her as best as she could. It was always a beautiful melody, though never one that Brielle recognized, and it often reminded her of the hollow hole in her chest, a hole that only Tamlen could fill. He often visited her in her dreams, in a place that only they knew, back when they were camped in the Brecilian forest. It was their own private getaway from the clan, but too often, those sweet dreams would be plagued with darkspawn, an eternal reminder that her own happy ending was naught to be.

She watched the sun rise that morning. Even in the city, it colored the skies in glorious golds and pinks, and she saw the first birds of the morning take flight, their song reaching even Brielle in the early hours. Below, she watched the vendors prepare their wares for the day, walking the streets groggily, yet with a bounce in their step that had not been there a week before. Loghain’s tyranny spurned terror into the denizens of Denerim and Ferelden alike, and now that his threat was gone, taken care of at the hands of a small group of Grey Wardens, they could go back to living their lives as normal, making a name for themselves in the city streets.

A faint knocking tapped at her door, and Brielle could only hope that it might be a servant with an early morning meal. It wasn’t a secret that she had trouble sleeping; too often she would wander the halls in the early morning, taking in the sights of the palace and the paintings and decor within. She would be found in the library, stretched upon a chair with her latest read laying open on her chest, having fallen asleep partway through the morning, since the night would give her no respite. With a sigh, she dragged herself to the door, pulling it inward. 

Her weary eyes were not surprised when she found herself face-to-face with Wynne, who looked as tired as Brielle felt, but the concern in Wynne’s eyes told her that she was there to talk.

“I’m not looking to be chastised for _rash decisions_ so early in the morning, Wynne,” Brielle grumbled, standing aside to let the old woman pass through. “So, if that’s why you’re here, I’m sorry to disappoint.”

Wynne chuckled softly as she entered, finding a seat in the chair near Brielle’s bed, sinking deep into the plush cushion. “That’s not why I’m here, Brielle,” she said kindly. “We haven’t spoken since the Landsmeet, and I’m guessing it is because you have been avoiding me.”

Brielle pursed her lips, collapsing on her bed. She spread her limbs wide, begging her body to relax as her blue eyes fixed on the ceiling, looking for pictures in the crackled textures. Wynne watched her, brows knitted together, knowing that Brielle wasn’t about to speak.

“While I may not have agreed with your initial decision, I respect that you’re doing what’s best for the Grey Wardens, and I support you,” she said. The sentiment was thoughtful, and Brielle appreciated it, but still said nothing. With a sigh, Wynne continued. “I wanted to talk about Alistair.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Brielle said quickly, sitting up. “I’ve made my decision, and he’s made his. There’s nothing that’s going to change that.”

Her words were harsher than she intended, but Wynne understood. “I know,” she said gently. “I wanted to ask if you were alright, my dear. I know how close the two of you were.”

Brielle’s eyes narrowed, and then she looked away, clearly unhappy. “As well as I can be,” she mumbled. “I don’t really think dwelling on it is best for the mission ahead. When the archdemon is dead, then I can grieve our lost friendship.”

Wynne regarded her for a moment, and then nodded. “That is very wise of you,” she said. “I know it doesn’t need saying, but you _are_ a Grey Warden first.”

She could feel her frustration rising, but she knew it was all out of concern Wynne spoke. Since they met, she had always been the mothering sort, especially where Brielle was concerned, and while it might not feel like it now, it was her way of comforting Brielle.

“Alistair will come around, he just needs time,” Wynne continued, smoothing her robes as Brielle laid back down. “His outburst was a bit juvenile, yes, but he had every reason to be upset. I’m sure he’ll see that your decision will benefit everyone in the long run.”

Brielle chuckled. “You don’t seem so sure, yourself, Wynne.”

“I have my….reservations. But I trust your judgement; you have not led us astray yet.” Wynne rose, seeing herself to the door. “Try to get some rest, dear. I know you haven’t been sleeping well, and you need your strength. If you’d like, I will come by around mid-morning to wake you.”

Brielle sat up once again, watching Wynne retreat to the door. There was a kind smile on her face, and the concern was still flickering in her eyes. After a moment of thought, Brielle nodded.

“I’d appreciate that, thank you.”

“Of course, Brielle. I’ll be back around 10. Rest well.” With a bow of her head, she left the room, the door clicking shut behind her. Brielle slumped back on the bed, scooting toward the pillows and drawing one of the thick, woolen blankets up to her chin. Though the conversation was short, it did help her relax a bit more, and she was able to pass into a dreamless sleep.

\--------

It was several hours later when Wynne came knocking, only a bit past 10. Brielle was still out to the world, lost in a dreamless sleep and desperately clutching her pillow. When Wynne realized it was not going to be as easy as knocking on the door to wake her up, she poked her head inside the room, a thin ray of light from the hall illuminating the slumbering Warden. She had never seen Brielle look so at peace as she did now, and she almost wanted to let her dream on, but they were departing Denerim at noon, and the Queen still wished to meet with their company before journeying to Redcliffe.

With a sigh, she let herself in, tiptoeing to the bed before sitting on the edge next to Brielle. She shifted when she felt the mattress sink, and her eyes slowly fluttered open when Wynne placed her hand on Brielle’s shoulder.

“That time already?” she asked thickly, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. Her dark hair was disheveled and everywhere, a complete mess, and she ran her fingers through it, trying to comb out the knots. “It’s never long enough.”

Wynne chuckled, leaning back as Brielle sat up. “It is, unfortunately. You would do well to get dressed quickly; Anora wishes to speak with us before we depart.”

Brielle grimaced, but said nothing, her arms raising high above her head in a stretch. She figured as much, and though she wasn’t really in the mood for any more political gatherings, whether spurned by one’s own agenda or not, it was the least she could do for the hospitality Anora offered her.

“Alright, I’ll be down soon, just give me a few minutes.”

Wynne nodded, departing, and left Brielle to herself. She stared at the end of the bed for several minutes, effectively zoning out to a place that she no longer knew, hoping she had the strength within her to continue dealing with shemlen affairs. It was times like these that she desperately missed her clan, missed the hunt, and missed chasing humans out of the forests while playing into their silly, Dalish superstitions. At this point, she felt as though humans might be more willing to encroach on her people’s camps, now that she was a Warden dealing with humans on the daily, but she sincerely hoped that wasn’t the case. And if she heard otherwise? Well, Brielle would _definitely_ do something about it.

Dragging herself from the bed, her possessions were all piled in the corner of her room. Her bow and daggers leaned against the wall, and her uniform and armor were draped over one of the many plush, overstuffed chairs. She quickly stripped her sleeping clothes, donning her armor not moments later; if anything taught her how to dress quickly, it was months in the wilderness, with the constant, looming threat of darkspawn and wildlife all around. There was a brush on the dresser, and she dragged it through her long, dark brown tresses, wincing as she tore through the unhappy tangles, and then pulled it all back into a loose bun at the back of her head. The whole affair, from dressing to packing, took about half an hour, and slinging her pack over her shoulder, she emerged from the room, stomping through the hall and down the nearest set of stairs.

When she got to the main hall, many of them were already there. Surana, Leliana, and Morrigan all stood against the far wall, speaking in low voices. Knowing that Surana used blood magic quite often, Brielle wasn’t surprised to see her dark eyes darting all about the room nervously, though Leliana’s fingers wrapped around hers gave her some semblance of relief. Morrigan glared disdainfully at the gathered crowd, and even at her own companions, but such was her way. Brielle paid it no mind; they surprisingly got on very well. It was everyone else who she had a hard time with.

Zevran was stretched out along a bench against the wall, and Oghren sat on the floor beside it, his chin tucked against his chest as he continued to nod off. Sten stood farthest away from everyone, whether because he was uncomfortable, or simply did not care to congregate with the rest, Brielle did not know, and Shale stood not far from him, ignoring the humans who gawked at them both. Wynne was speaking to one of the senior palace mages, and Alistair was nowhere to be seen. Brielle wasn’t the least bit surprised by that, though a small part of her had hoped he might have seen them off, if not for her, but for the rest. He had made friends among their company, but she supposed that was too much to ask.

Loghain stood near the Queen, and at his feet pawed Brielle’s mabari, whom she affectionately called Peanut. The dog’s docked tail wagged incessantly, and he kept nudging his nose against Loghain’s hand, as though asking for attention. He merely raised his brow at the dog, but Brielle couldn’t help but to wonder if she was actually seeing the slight grin that had spread across his face.

Anora quickly noticed Brielle when she allowed her pack to slide from her shoulder and onto the floor, and her features brightened as she gestured for her to approach. Squaring her shoulders, Brielle erased any weariness she might have worn, striding purposefully toward the Queen. Loghain’s eyes flickered her way and he gave her a brief nod, before returning his attention to the mabari, who was closer and closer to toppling the man over should he not give him the proper attention.

“I hope you slept well?” Anora said when Brielle approached her, the latter raising her arms to her chest in a Dalish salute.

“As well as I could,” she replied with a nod. “There’s something about a looming war with the darkspawn that does something to your sleep.” Brielle grinned darkly, hearing Loghain snort from beside them, and Anora sighed, looking at her sadly.

“I can’t imagine what’s that like,” she said. “We’ve received word from Redcliffe that the darkspawn are approaching swiftly; tarrying any longer will prove detrimental to the village’s safety, and Arl Eamon is already doing what he can to prepare for the assault.”

Brielle nodded. It would take a long while to reach Redcliffe; it was nearly on the other side of Ferelden, and even traveling through the night with only a bit of rest would not get them there in time to stop the onslaught completely. If they reached Redcliffe in that time, they would be exhausted, unable to fight as well as they could.

“We will travel as quickly as we can,” Brielle said. “I can make no promises that we can fully stop the attack, but the darkspawn will regret the day they step foot in Redcliffe.”

Anora nodded her approval, slipping a ring off her finger. Brielle watched curiously as she held out her hand, awaiting the elf to take it, and cautiously, Brielle did so, watching the Queen as she slipped the ring on her finger. Her brows furrowed, distorting the vallaslin on her brow, as she looked from the ring to Anora, but she could find no tell on the Queen’s face.

“Forgive me for implying anything,” Brielle said, “but I am unfamiliar with human courting rituals.”

Loghain cleared his throat loudly, trying to mask the surprise at Brielle’s words. Anora laughed lightly, shaking her head.

“You do not have to worry, father, this is not what she says.” Loghain cast an icy look at Brielle, and she merely shrugged, focusing on Anora again. “This is a boon, a trinket of good fortune to follow you wherever your path leads. May the Maker shine his light on you, Warden Brielle Mahariel, and may your Creators guide you as you would have them.”

Brielle was a bit stunned that Anora would mention her own gods, but she was appreciative, nonetheless. With a salute, she dismissed herself, and Anora nodded in farewell. It was then that her companions realized it was time for them to leave the comforts of the palace, and one by one, they fell in line behind Brielle as she led the charge, double doors swinging open before her and leading into the city streets. She took a deep breath of fresh air, her hands resting on her hips, and feeling the slight wind ruffling her hair, she glanced behind her, watching as everyone looked to her for guidance. 

“Here we go.”

\--------

Even after hours of traveling, it did not feel that Brielle came any nearer to Redcliffe than she was when they left Denerim. The sky was starting to darken, and that meant darkspawn and wildlife would soon be on their trail, hunting them in the night with intentions to kill. She would have been fine to continue walking on, but not everyone could function on little sleep as well as she could, and it was then that she decided that they would find a safe clearing to set up camp and retire for the night.

Removing the heavier parts of her armor, Brielle placed them within her tent, which she set up the moment their camp had been decided. She doubted she would be sleeping much and offered to take watch for the better part of the night, if not the entire time. Wynne protested, knowing well that Brielle needed her sleep, but Brielle refused the respite. She insisted that she would be fine, and after a fair bit of arguing, Wynne relented, retiring to her own tent, but not before whispering to Surana in passing to keep an eye out for her.

Like many times before the Landsmeet, everyone set up their tents in a similar fashion, spread out wide enough so everyone had their privacy, but not so far that one might have been in danger. Morrigan was still the farthest away from their company, unwilling to spend too much time near the rest of the group, and Brielle was content to let her be; she would have done the same if she wasn’t the de facto leader of their small group. Beside her tent was Leliana and Surana’s shared quarters, and on the other side, Wynne. Shale did not require sleep, and therefore stood at the farthest entrance, ever vigilant. Sten was a bit away from the main body of the camp, though not too far, and Zevran and Oghren flanked the women’s tents on opposite sides, unwilling to be too near each other. Oghren had a nasty habit of throwing around slurs aimed at elves and sexist remarks casually, and on more than one occasion, Brielle swore that she saw Zevran ready a dagger to threaten the dwarf. She would have gladly turned the other cheek to not notice what he did, but part of her also was very willing to join in. However, with the precarious position of Ferelden, they needed as many soldiers against the Blight as possible.

Brielle stood at the center of the camp, letting the fire warm her skin. The evening was brisk, and everyone was settling into their tents for the night. She could hear hushed whispers and sweet giggles from Leliana and Surana, and though it brought a smile to her lips, Brielle couldn’t help but to feel a pang of sadness deep within her stomach. She was happy for them; each of them had been through so much in their lives, unable to trust anyone around them, cut for them to find love in the wilderness and war as they did, well, it was heartwarming.

Unable to let herself dwell on it any longer, Brielle strode across the camp, the cool air causing goosebumps to prickle down her arms. Her Grey Warden attire lay forgotten in her tent; she wore only a thin, white shirt and a pair of simple breeches. It was comfortable, and after walking in her armor for the better part of the day, she figured she deserved it.

Her daggers were still strapped to her hips, however, and she wore her boots, unwilling to go barefoot in the wilderness nowadays. Even then, her footsteps were light and silent; it would take a sensitive ear to be able to track her. She was an expert in stealth, and deadly with her daggers. It would take a fool to come upon her in the dead of night like this.

“You’re going to get eaten alive, dressed like that.”

Brielle could have heard his footsteps from a mile away with how heavy his solid plate clunked, but she was well aware that he made no attempts to keep himself hidden. She stood at the camp’s edge, out of earshot of her companions, and her arms folded across her chest as she cast a glance over her shoulder, the silhouette of Loghain slowly approaching her.

“And you’re going to attract every darkspawn from Orzammar to Denerim with how loud you are, clunking around,” she quipped, raising a brow. “You’re still in your armor; that can’t be comfortable to sleep in.”

He huffed in annoyance, icy blue eyes rolling. “I haven’t slept much at all since the Joining,” he said gruffly, coming to a rest beside Brielle. His gaze was fixed in the wooded area surrounding their camp, watching for any sign of movement in the darkness.

“You get used to it,” Brielle sighed, brushing her hair out of her eyes. “Or you don’t. I’ve been having regular nightmares ever since my Joining.”

“How long’s that been?”

Brielle glanced at Loghain, raising a brow. “You were basically there, or did you forget that one time where you left us all to die and then branded us the villains and reason for Cailan’s death?”

Caught off guard by the sudden venom in her voice, Loghain pulled his gaze away from the woods, looking down at Brielle. She was tiny, compared to him, but that did not make the glare in her dark blue eyes any kinder. There was a fury on her face that he hadn’t even seen during their duel at the Landsmeet, nor when she argued with the fool, Alistair.

“I see.” His expression was stony as he folded his arms, and he tore his gaze away from her, though he could not shake the look in her eyes. “You have made your point.”

“You’re damn right I have,” Brielle growled, still glaring. There were a dozen things she would like to say to him right then and there, though she imagined that their long trek had made her infinitely more irritable than she might have been any other time. Maybe Wynne was right.

“I suppose,” Loghain said, after a very lengthy pause. “I should thank you for sparing my life.”

“I didn’t do it for you,” she replied quickly, her voice still venom. “I did it for the future of the Grey Wardens. And Anora. I lost my best friend because I decided your worth as a commander was greater than killing you for your crimes, and I paid for that with my friendship with Alistair. You know, _Maric’s_ son.”

The mention of his late friend’s name struck a nerve within Loghain, and it was his turn to round on Brielle, his eyes icy daggers. She was not afraid, however, and she was certain he wouldn’t harm her. Standing her ground, she squared her shoulders, chin lifting pridefully as she met his wrathful gaze.

“You dare speak Maric’s name to _me_?” he growled, and he watched as she became enveloped in his shadow, the light of the full moon shining on his back. Her eyes glowed in the darkness like a cat, but they glinted in prideful amusement, knowing well that she had struck a nerve.

“I think it’s within my right,” Brielle said, coolly. “Whether you like it or not, Alistair _is_ his only living heir, and that’s thanks to _you_.”

“No, I don’t think so.” She was unsure as to which statement it was that Loghain responded, but the anger in his eyes refused to fade. Maric was obviously a sensitive subject to him, and Brielle was certain she could use this to her advantage. Of course, she had to be careful, and while she may have been armed, the dead of night with no armor to speak of was not the best time or place for another duel.

“Why not?” Her words were still harsh, but the hint of curiosity within it was not easily hidden. Loghain’s eyes narrowed, unable to tell if she was toying with him or not, but his jaw clenched, brows knitting together angrily.

“It’s none of your business,” he finally said, tearing his gaze away from her. “Nor is it important. My past is my own.”

Brielle regarded him for a moment, but said nothing, deciding not to press the issue further. If they were not careful, they would soon be screaming at each other, likely causing their companions to awaken, and they’d no doubt subdue Loghain out of fear he might harm Brielle.

“Fine,” she said. “I won’t pry, but I won’t sit idly by while you’re here alone. Whether or not we see eye to eye on anything, we’re a part of the same order now. Alistair was the only other Warden I knew when I joined, and now I’m the only Warden you know after your Joining.” She paused. “I suppose there’s Surana as well. But I doubt she’s willing to know you as I intend to.”

Brielle looked back into the woods, and she could feel Loghain’s eyes back upon her. She said nothing, however, awaiting his reaction to her words.

“Know me? Did I just not say--”

“Not your past, Loghain,” she clarified. “Not who you were to Ferelden, or what your history is. I’m looking to know Loghain the man. If I’m going to be the senior Warden of Ferelden by the time this is said and done, I want to make sure we can get along, despite our, erm, _differences._”

She looked back at him, biting back a chuckle at his thoroughly confused expression. “I realize a week ago we were trying to kill each other,” Brielle continued. “But war changes people. Creators know I’m not the same elf I was a year ago.”

Her voice carried off into a whisper, and she felt herself longing for the days when she was still in her clan with her friends, and those she considered family. It felt like a lifetime ago, and she could feel the sadness gripping at her core. It must have been obvious, because not moments later, she heard Loghain sigh, whether in pity, or something else, she did not know.

“You’re in charge here,” he said gruffly, casting his gaze away when her eyes flickered to him. “You need to be well rested. I can take watch, you should sleep.”

Brielle rolled her eyes, and they flashed in the darkness. “No can do.”

Annoyance flickered in his expression, and he made to speak, but Brielle cut him off before he could.

“If I fall asleep during my watch, then I’ll go. But until then, I’m staying up to make sure the lot of you are safe. You’re free to hang around; I can’t force you into bed”

A silence fell between them as Loghain regarded her words, and then slowly nodded. “Well. I suppose I can’t stop you, but if something _is_ out there, that pathetic excuse for clothing isn’t going to get you anywhere. You’ll get run right through.”

Brielle shrugged, and strode to the nearest tree, sliding down to nestle herself within its roots. “Then hang around. You’re the warrior, not me. I’m best in the shadows, not in the front line.”

Loghain grunted, but said nothing, shuffling to loom beside her like a stone sentinel, ever vigilant. Brielle, though still irritated from their argument, accepted his company gratefully, and set her daggers on her lap, bright eyes peering into the dark.


	3. Chapter 3

It was just before dawn when Brielle awakened, and she was utterly confused when she found herself staring at the canvas of her tent, bundled in blankets and furs that were not entirely her own. She was quite cozy, and loathed herself to get up, but considering her last memory was of watching over the camp the night before so that her companions might rest, she was quite curious to figure out how she got back to her own tent.

The aroma of spiced meat permeated the air, and Brielle’s mouth began to water, becoming quite aware at how hungry she truly was. Blinking the sleep out of her eyes, she sat up, her blankets falling to her waist, and hissed when the cool, morning air touched her skin. She should have expected it; Ferelden was always chilly, and there was hardly a time she didn’t travel with some sort of cloak. She drew one of the unfamiliar blankets around her shoulders, noting the deep, musky scent in the black fur, and got to her feet groggily, her hair a disheveled mess free of its customary bun. Her bangs hung in her face as she pushed her tent flap aside, barring part of her vision. With a huff, she blew them out of her eyes, only to be met with a string of curses the moment she left the safety of her tent.

Loghain sat at the center of the camp, a deer carcass at his feet. It appeared as though he was in the middle of butchering it, but the knife he used, however, lay forgotten at his feet. Wrapped around his hand was a filthy cloth, stained with blood and dirt and worn with age, his fingers squeezed tightly around it. His face was as stoney as ever, a scowl settled on his lips, and he pulled the cloth away briefly, judging the severity of an obvious injury. Brielle caught a flash of crimson on his palm, but he turned away before she could judge the wound for herself, unaware that she had emerged from her tent. With a sigh, she reached for her pack, which lay just inside the tent, hobbling over to Loghain sleepily. As she passed by the fire, she noticed a thick stew bubbling over the flame, the heavy aroma of spices and meat hitting her in the face. It smelled delicious, and her stomach rumbled hungrily, but she ignored it for the time being. 

“What happened to waking me up if I fell asleep, Loghain?” she asked, earning her an annoyed glance from over his shoulder. She looked quite odd, wrapped up in thick furs, nearly swimming in them as she approached, but he said nothing. It was a moment or two before he faced her, and his nose wrinkled at the slight concern that flickered in her eyes upon seeing the filthy cloth slowly turn red in color.

“And what's all of this?” she continued, shrugging at the fire and deer carcass, which both lay forgotten. “You were supposed to be  _ watching _ , not hunting. Did you get bored?”

“More like hungry,” he grunted, pulling back the cloth and grimacing. He pointedly ignored her first question, and she brushed it aside, instead dropping her pack while approaching him, hand held out to inspect his wound. He glared at her suspiciously, and Brielle's eyes flashed dangerously, daring him to even try his bullshit this morning. The entire camp was still asleep, save for them, and the last thing she wanted was to draw everyone's ire by yelling at Loghain so early. 

He begrudgingly held out his hand, and Brielle took it, ignoring as blood quickly coated her fingers. The cut was right across his palm, but thankfully not deep enough to cause lasting damage. She let go briefly, if only to procure a rag, bandages, and a small bottle of strong alcohol, uncorking it with her teeth before pouring it over the wound. His hand flinched as it stung his palm, and he hissed, but was ultimately cooperative as Brielle worked, spitting out the cork into the fire. 

“How did you manage this anyway?” she asked, using the rag to wipe away the remnants of blood and alcohol. She did not look at him as she worked, but she could feel his eyes upon her, combing her face for any signs of distrust. Or maybe that was just how she felt. Naturally, she did not trust him after the events of the past year, and he did not have much reason to trust her when she could have killed him for what he had done. Regardless, she did not look up at him when she continued. “Maybe I'm assuming, but something tells me you're not the type to be so careless when butchering a deer.”

“Don't be ridiculous,” Loghain snapped, and Brielle raised a brow at his tone, pressing the wound a bit harder than needed. He hissed again, and when she looked at him with a smug grin, she watched a flicker of irritation flash across his face. When he spoke again, however, his tone was lighter, but the annoyance was still there.

“Your mabari caught me off guard,” he admitted, and Brielle had to bite her lip to keep from laughing. The dog laid next to where Loghain had his supplies, dark, intelligent eyes watching them curiously. When Loghain glanced at him, his stub of a tail began wiggling happily, shaking his entire bottom, and Brielle couldn't help but to shake her head at the dog. It was no fault of Peanut's that he had frightened Loghain, but the fact that he had sliced his hand open was cause for concern. After all, they were in the wilderness, likely a month off from Redcliffe, and while she was sure they'd be able to get more supplies along the way, an infection was the last thing she wanted to deal with, Loghain or not. 

“So what you're saying is that Peanut spooked you?”

She wrapped the cloth tightly around his hand, knotting the ends together neatly at the side, pulling her furs around her shoulders when she finished. He tested the bandages by flexing his fingers, wincing slightly as the wound protested, but found it acceptable. However, he did not turn away to finish his work; instead, he gave Brielle a sort of perturbed look, glancing between her and the dog.

“You named your mabari…. _ Peanut? _ This is an intelligent wardog, and you named it  _ Peanut?” _

Brielle grinned, shrugging nonchalantly. “Wardog or not, he’s adorable and needed a name befitting of that.” Peanut barked in assent, wagging his stub of a tail when Brielle looked his way.

Loghain eyed her, but shook his head in mild annoyance, edging around Brielle to return to his work. He sat heavily upon a log that served as a makeshift chair, poking at the forgotten stew, before picking up his knife again, hacking away at the meat. Peanut rose from his spot to lay at Loghain's feet, and unconsciously, he pat the dog's head, tossing him a piece of raw meat, which Peanut caught easily. As he chomped, Brielle took a seat next to Loghain, stirring the stew as he hacked away at the hunk of meat, chopping it into small cubes before throwing them in the pot. It was like this for a while, and they sat in silence together, until the meat he handled was all in the pot. Curiously, Brielle brought the spoon to her lips, blowing on it to cool it before taking a sip. It was delicious, and her surprise must have shown on her face, because not seconds later, Loghain chuckled softly, watching her as he wiped blood from the knife’s blade.

“Like it, do you?”

Brielle's features hardened instantly, returning the spoon to the soup, but she had been caught. In an effort to save face, she shrugged in disinterest, resting her chin in her hand. “I've had better,” she said, grinning icily. He could see right through her facade, however, and Brielle was more than aware he had. Though he rolled his eyes at her statement, she swore she could see the smallest hint of a grin marring his otherwise grumpy expression.

“Really though, when did you find the time to hunt?” Brielle asked, glancing at the remnants of the deer carcass that sat a bit away. They would have to get rid of it soon, else they would attract unwanted wildlife, longing for a bite to eat.

Loghain reached for the spoon himself, mimicking what Brielle had done just moments before. After tasting the stew, his brows furrowed together in thought, contemplating its flavors. 

“It’s missing something,” he murmured, returning the spoon the to the pot. He clasped his hands before him, idly fingering the knot where his bandages were tied, before addressing Brielle again.

“A small herd made the mistake of wandering too close to camp,” he said, rolling his shoulders. Brielle heard them crack loudly, and she wondered vaguely when last he had a good stretch. “So I took advantage of it.”

“We  _ do _ have food, you know,” she pointed out, gesturing to a bundle across the fire, filled to the brim with easily sustainable food, meant for travel. “You didn’t have to go to the trouble, and you could have avoided  _ that _ .” She glanced pointedly at his hand, tugging at the knotted bandages. He ignored her remark. 

“Heh. Cold jerky on a cold morning isn’t going to give you the energy you need for a day’s march. Especially if the damned Blight’s messed with your sleep, like it has for us.”

Brielle shrugged, accepting his reasoning, and pulled her furs further together. By now, the sun’s rays began to peek over the tops of the trees, illuminating the westernmost part of of the camp with a warm, golden glow. The air was still brisk, however, and despite being wrapped up in furs that were not her own, Brielle was not inclined to give them up so quickly. How Loghain could stand wearing only a pair of breeches and thin shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, she did now know. Dalish, she might be, but the cold always had a way of bothering her if she wasn’t wrapped in several layers of thick, warm clothes.

She decided to take another taste of the soup, wondering what he meant by it missing something. Allowing the flavors to wash over her tongue, she sat in silent contemplation for a few moments, before reaching for her pack again. Loghain watched her idly as she dug within, emptying the contents around her feet: he counted at least three maps and a plethora of hair ties and ribbons in a wide variety of colors. There was a small pouch that smelled strongly of lavender and other herbs, as well as a vial of what he could only guess was perfume of some kind. She tossed a small journal aside, which hit his boot before falling open onto the ground, and when he felt her nudge his leg with her fist, he held out his hand to receive whatever was in hers. Of course, he hadn't expected a fistful of dog treats, and he sighed defeatedly, looking at her as she continued digging. 

“Dog biscuits, really?” he asked, partially wondering why she hadn't just ended him in Denerim. She paused from her search, hand still halfway into her pack as she looked at him. 

“No, those are clearly spices baked into cute little bone shapes for your stew,” she quipped, amused by the weariness in his expression. 

“Think you're funny, now?” 

“I  _ know _ I am.” 

Loghain grunted, rolling his eyes. Peanut caught a whiff of the biscuits, sitting up, and he placed his paw on Loghain's thigh, nudging his hand with his nose. With a sigh, he handed Peanut a treat, which he took gently, after giving his hand a lick.

“Why do you have dog biscuits in your pack? Surely that gets… _ messy _ ?”

Brielle snorted, turning back to her pack and shoving her hand back in. “You never know when you'll run into a mabari, or any dog for that matter. You have to be prepared. Creators, I thought you were Ferelden.”

Loghain said nothing, giving the mabari another treat. He seemed very taken with Loghain, despite being Brielle's dog, but he would take it as it was. Peanut was likely the only member of Brielle's company he would get along with, anyway, and there was nothing like a dog's friendship and loyalty. A mabari was always a steadfast companion. 

“ _ Oh. _ ”

Despite her proximity, Loghain barely heard the soft sound escape Brielle's lips. Curiously, he glanced at her, unable to see her face as her long dark hair obscured it. The stiffness in her posture was enough to tell him that something upset her suddenly, and it was only when he saw a silver locket resting in her shaking palm that he somewhat understood. However, as quickly as he saw it, she hid it away again, and he cast his gaze aside, acting as though he had not seen it.

As Brielle replaced the locket, an obvious and unwanted ache in her chest, she finally found what she was looking for. Her fingers wrapped around a small box, and she pulled it free, setting it on the center of her palm between she and Loghain. It was small, made of dark wood and intricately carved with a halla on the lid and the markings of Ghilan’nain around the edges. Brielle had it ever since she left the clan, and it was the contents she offered.

“What is it?”

Brielle rolled her eyes, as though the small box was commonplace for everyone, but she soon realized she was speaking to a human, after all. “Spices,” she answered, easing the small box open, being careful not to spill any of the precious contents. “Each clan has their own special blend, and even then, you won't get the same flavor from elf to elf. The base is the same, but you never know how much of one herb you'll get in the mix.”

She brought the box to her nose, inhaling the familiar aroma, feeling a pang of homesickness in her chest. After a moment, she handed it to Loghain, who took it carefully in his hand and he too smelled it, nodding his approval. He couldn't quite place what it was that the Dalish spices were made of, but it smelled good, nonetheless. 

“What’s in it?”

“That, I can't tell you,” she said, and when he looked at her, he realized it was for reasons other than being a pain in the ass. There was apologetic sincerity in her expression, and in her blue eyes there was a sadness that only longing for home could give. Though she gave him no reason beyond that, he nodded, accepting her answer. 

“How much do you use?” he instead asked. 

“Only a pinch. The flavors are strong, and too much can overpower the entire meal.” She reached for the spices, taking an impossibly small amount between her thumb and forefinger, and dropped it into the stew, giving it a stir to allow the flavors to permeate through the entire pot.

“I haven't used much of it since leaving my clan,” she said with a sigh, and Loghain handed the box back to her. “I've been holding onto it for as long as I can. It's the only familiarity I've had during this stupid Blight, and once I run out, I'll have to find my clan again to get more. I have no idea where they've gone during the past year; they could have crossed the Waking Sea for all I know.”

She closed the box, securing the lid tightly before placing it back in her pack, slowly putting her possessions in after it. She kept only an icy blue hair tie out to pull back her hair later, and buried herself further into the furs. 

It wasn't long thereafter that the stew was ready, and not long after that that the rest of the camp began to stir. The first to rise was Surana, her dark, coiled curls uncharacteristically disheveled, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Peanut jumped from his position curled around Loghain's feet, bounding toward her happily, and he stood on his back legs, placing his paws on her shoulders. Surana was impossibly tall as it was, so for Peanut to reach them with ease was a feat in itself. 

“Good morning to you, too,” she cooed, pressing her nose to the dog's. “It's good to see you, sweetie.” Peanut's tail wagged happily and he gave Surana a kiss, before trotting back to his spot at Loghain's feet. Surana watched him with bright eyes, wearing a smile that only a dog's kiss could pull from her. Casually, she made her way to another log, opposite Brielle and Loghain, eyeing the pot of stew warily. 

“What's this?” she asked, sniffing the air lightly. “Breakfast?” Glancing over Brielle's shoulder, she saw the remnants of a deer's body, her nose wrinkling at the sight, and she turned her attention back to Brielle, expression inquisitive. 

“You do know we have food, right?”

Brielle chuckled, shaking her head. “Don't get started with that; it was  _ his _ idea.” 

Surana's sharp eyes flickered to Loghain, thick brows forming a V-shape as she frowned. He decided to ignore her pointed look, rummaging around his own things for a couple of bowls, at least one for each of them. Surana rolled her eyes, running her hands through her hair before clasping them before her, elbows resting on her knees and fingers tapping her lips. She watched Brielle curiously, whose eyes were fixed on the fire, a blank stare shining in her blue eyes. She was deep in thought, that much Surana could tell, and as she watched her, she soon became aware that the furs she was bundled up in were completely unfamiliar. As far as she knew, Brielle didn’t own a single thing as finely crafted as the furs around her shoulders, and it wasn’t until she cleared her throat that Brielle came out of her stupor, looking Surana in the eyes.

“ _ Hm? _ ”

The look Surana had on her face was inquisitive, but suspiciously so, and Brielle was barely aware that Loghain handed her a bowl of the stew, having spooned some for both of the elves before himself. She thanked him silently, dragging her spoon along the edge, but she could not take her eyes off of Surana, who had yet to touch her own.

“Those furs aren’t yours,” she said brusquely, lips pursed. “You don’t own anything half as fine as that.”

Brielle hesitated, pulling them tighter around her. She had a hunch they belonged to Loghain; after all, he had been the last person she saw the night before, and it would make sense that he covered her in them, but why, she could not say. Taking a breath, she made to answer, but she was cut off immediately by Loghain’s gruff, and almost grumpy, voice.

“It’s mine,” he said, taking a bite of his stew. It was still hot, and he scalded his tongue, but he made no expression that would betray that to the two women. “She was cold on watch last night, so I let her borrow it.”

It was not entirely the truth, but it was enough. Surana raised a brow when she looked at him skeptically, but she accepted his answer, shaking her head as her curls bounced about. Brielle glanced at Loghain, whose expression was stoney as ever, almost expecting some sort of reaction, but she received none. It didn’t matter though, and she appreciated the thought, even if he was lying.

The matter was dropped, however, as more of their group came emerging from their tents. Next was Leliana, who drowsily shuffled to where Surana sat, collapsing on the log next to her. She leaned heavily against the elf’s shoulder, her head resting in the crook of her neck, and though her expression was impassive, the look in Surana’s eyes when she glanced at Leliana was so warm and tender, it made Brielle’s heart skip a beat just watching them.

Wynne cleared her throat, her eyes weary but her expression cheerful, seating herself on the other side of Brielle. Though it was so quick she almost missed it, Brielle caught Wynne’s distrusting glance toward Loghain, but she shrugged it off when Brielle cast a questioning look in her direction. It was apparent that she would get no answers from the elder woman, and Brielle relented, handing off a bowl to Wynne, who tucked into her food silently.

Though she rose from her own shelter, Morrigan did not join the group, and Shale kept their distance, glowing eyes fixed on the woods like an unmoving sentinel, guarding their small camp. Likewise, Sten veered away from the group, greeting Brielle with only a curt nod before he began rolling up his things into a small pack, ready for the day’s journey. 

When Zevran emerged, Loghain rose from his seat, taking his leave. It was apparent that the camp slowly got too crowded for his tastes; if truth be told, she was surprised he didn’t leave the moment Surana had appeared with her steely, suspicious glare, but perhaps it was his way of integrating himself in with the others, despite not being on good terms with any of them. At her feet, Peanut whined, pawing at her leg before he jumped up, running off after Loghain.

Zevran took the vacated seat, squinting into the pot’s bubbling contents. “Eh, Ferelden cuisine never fails to...dull the appetite,” he muttered, shooting Brielle an amused glance. “Though, I’ll admit, it does look better than the soup Alistair made.”

He wasn’t wrong, but Brielle rolled her eyes regardless, finishing the last of her stew. “It tastes better than it looks,” she said, scraping the broth off the sides of her bowl. “Trust me on this one.” 

“As you wish, my dear Grey Warden,” he mused, picking up one of the empty bowls and helping himself to some. There was still a good deal of it left, plenty for anyone who wanted seconds, and Brielle almost considered it for a moment. However, her thoughts were interrupted when Oghren finally appeared, collapsing on the ground, having missed the log to the right of Zevran. He wasn’t perturbed by it, however, and he scratched the back of his head sleepily, small eyes squinted as the morning sun bathed the party in its light.

“Heh, mornin’ already?” he mumbled. There was a distinct odor of stale alcohol wafting through the air, and Brielle’s nose wrinkled when it hit her. She wasn’t surprised to smell it, however; ever since they met in Orzammar, she knew he had a bit of a problem when it came to drinking, and for that reason, she always avoided going anywhere that would have alcohol readily available, at least with him along. Naturally, it was difficult, but so was dealing with him after he had a good amount to drink. While part of her pitied him, the other part, the  _ greater _ part, would be happier to spend the least amount of time as possible in his company. Even without alcohol, he wasn’t the most pleasant of companions to be had.

“It is,” Brielle said, spooning some more stew into her bowl. It was for Oghren, and she figured he wouldn’t care that she had already used the bowl that morning, but the sooner he got some food into him, the better. From the look of it, he was suffering from a painful hangover, and to travel for an entire day trying to nurse it? Well, Brielle had been there and done that, and she didn’t want anyone else to have to suffer like that.

“Eat up, we still have a long way to go,” she said, passing the bowl to Zevran, who passed it to Oghren in turn. He mumbled something, whether it was a thanks or a curse, she couldn’t tell, but he happily accepted the stew, shoveling copious amounts into his mouth, regardless of how hot it was.

A pleasant chatter overtook the camp, and Brielle soon found herself laughing as Leliana told a story from her time as a bard in Orlais, and an embarrassing story at that. Surana had to completely cover her face with her hands to keep herself from losing it, and still, she failed, hunched over as she wheezed, struggling to catch her breath. Wynne, though not as inclined to participate, hid a chuckle in her hand, and Brielle and Zevran were doubled over on each other, using each other as support, lest they fall from their laughter. Even Oghren laughed between second and third helpings of stew, and it was the first time since before the Landsmeet that the group was able to relax and enjoy each other’s company. Of course, that wasn’t to say they didn’t miss Alistair, however; at this point, he would have said something about his own experiences in the Grey Wardens, which could have been just as embarrassing as Leliana’s tale. 

“We should get moving.”

Loghain’s gruff voice interrupted their laughter, his tone commanding. Brielle fixed her gaze upon him, expression hardening, but he was not looking at the group. Instead, he was finishing up his own packing, tying everything into a neat bundle at his feet. Perhaps it was is experience as a commander in Maric’s army that gave him the edge that he had, but Brielle still didn’t appreciate the suddenness of his comment.

“The longer we dawdle, the sooner the darkspawn will destroy Redcliffe. I suggest we move quickly.”

He did have a point, but that didn't make Brielle any less grumpy about his interruption. With a sigh, she looked back at the group with an expression that very clearly said  _ He’s right, but I’m not happy about it _ , and she rose to her feet, cracking her back. Wynne quickly followed suit, returning to her tent to pack her belongings, and Surana and Leliana each shot Loghain an unhappy glance before rising themselves. 

Soon enough, everyone was back in their tents, packing up and grumbling. Brielle changed quickly into her Grey Warden uniform, folding up the furs in a neat pile before putting everything else away. It took the better part of an hour to clean up her area, and soon enough, it was as though the place had been empty the entire night before. Checking to make sure everything was in place, she decided it was about time to return the furs back to Loghain, and while the others were distracted, she slipped away, the soft fur warm and cozy against her chest.

Loghain stood at the outskirts of the camp, keeping watch as he had the night before. He turned slightly as she approached, giving her a curt nod in greeting, before returning his attention back to the woods. She stood next to him, the silence oddly comforting. There were no clangs of metal against metal, no grisly roars from darkspawn. All was calm, save for the chirping of the birds in the trees, and it reminded Brielle slightly of her home with the clan. Still, she was there to return the furs, not dwell on the past, and she cleared her throat to get his attention, offering them to him when she caught it.

“I suppose I should thank you for this,” she said, albeit stiffly. For a man who had been hellbent on having her killed not a week before, Brielle did not have a difficult time trying to thank him. Even so, he did not meet her eyes when she offered him his possession back, and he shook his head, his expression an impassive mask. She could not read him, even if she stared at him for most of the day, and her brows knitted together as she brought the furs back to her chest.

“Keep it,” he said, finally looking at her. The way he spoke, it seemed as though he was forcing the words out. His shoulders were rather stiff, and his jaw was set, and his expression had changed from unreadable to positively stern. “You’ll need it more than I will.”

She pursed her lips. “Fine. Are you going to tell me how it got in my tent then? Or how I got there, for that matter?” She had a strong inkling, but she wanted to hear it for herself.

He was silent, chewing on his tongue, and she swore she could have seen a grin spread across his lips. “No.”

Her eyes flashed, and she shook her head, turning on her heel to walk back to the others. If he was going to be a pain in the ass, so be it, but if he didn’t expect her to be twice as infuriating right back to him, he had another thing coming.


	4. Chapter 4

Days passed into weeks, and it still felt as though Redcliffe only got further away. Tensions were high between the party; Loghain butted heads with nearly everyone, and on more than one occasion, Brielle had to pull him off and drag him away from the rest of the group. Surana kept her distance, though never let him out of her sight as far as Brielle was concerned, and it was decided that there was to be a large gap between he and Oghren when they traveled, especially if the latter had been drinking. The only people who really tolerated him were Brielle and Peanut, and Peanut was a mabari. 

He ran circles around Loghain, sometimes barking, sometimes with a stick in his mouth, and always wagging his tail. Brielle found it amusing, to say the least, and wondered vaguely if all Fereldens had a way with dogs like this. If anything, Loghain tried to brush it off as a hassle and an annoyance, but every time Peanut brought a stick to him, Brielle caught him grinning like a boy with his first toy sword. There was never a time where he wouldn't throw the stick for Peanut, and there was never a time where Peanut would not bring it back. 

While it was endearing, it did nothing to help Loghain's relationship with their company. Wynne often made an offhand comment that could potentially start a row, mostly regarding Brielle's safety as the senior Warden, and Loghain always commented back quickly enough, as though expecting her remarks. Leliana distanced herself entirely, and the others pretended he did not exist. As long as no one was causing problems, Brielle was happy to leave it as it was. After all, she was tense enough, knowing that the battle with the archdemon drew nearer. True, they had yet to see the creature besides in their dreams, but it was still enough to unsettle them all.

A week into their journey, and they had come into a comfortable routine. At nightfall, they found a semi decent place to camp, and watches would switch throughout the night. Loghain tried to claim each watch, remarking that the Blight nightmares made it difficult for him to sleep, but it became apparent that his lack of sleep was taking a toll. At one point, Brielle caught him dozing off as he stood, and after an argument that nearly had them yelling at each other, he relented, agreeing to get some much needed rest. His head barely hit his pillow before he was out cold, and the next morning, he rose early, brighter-eyed than he had been in a while. Of course, it did not make him any less stoic, but his irritability had gone down tremendously. At least now, Brielle could hold a conversation without an argument breaking out.

At the dawn of the second week, Brielle realized she hardly knew anything about him, aside from the tales the bards spun. Those stories, however, were always met with a hint of hatred and disapproval, and while she was in agreement, especially regarding the events of the last year, she wanted to know more. Her clan knew of Ferelden's war for freedom from Orlais, and she had heard many rumors regarding Loghain and Maric's friendship, followed by incredulity that he would allow Cailan to die. She understood those feelings, of course; she still held resentment for her treatment over the past year, the poisoning of Eamon, and especially allowing her people to get taken by slavers to Tevinter. If anything, it bothered her the most, and it was something she prepared to confront him about, not only to sate her anger, but to hold him accountable for what he had done. Truth be told, addressing it in front of everyone was preferable, but as his superior in the Grey Wardens, she wanted to deal with that professionally. 

It was about midday when they paused for rest. Wynne became rather weak during their journey, and Surana immediately tried her hand at a stamina potion to aid in her recovery. After Wynne revealed to Brielle that she possessed a spirit within her and that it kept her alive, she and Surana took turns to make sure she wasn’t too strained with the journey at hand. Surana handled the potion making better than Brielle, and she had known her far longer as well, so she took upon herself to make sure Wynne was alright, when Brielle was pressed with other issues their group would face. 

Brielle did not rest as her company did; she lingered at the edge of their camp, watching the area and shoving pieces of dried meat hastily into her mouth. She did not want to dwell too long; night approached quickly this time of year, and the more time they spent idle, the more time they lost. She understood Wynne's situation, of course, but that did not make her any less antsy. 

Loghain walked the perimeter impatiently, unimpressed that they paused. Peanut was on his heels the entire time, panting happily and unaware of Loghain's foul mood. It was when they finally reached Brielle for the third time that they paused, and Loghain huffed grumpily, drawing her gaze from her lookout.

“We waste time,” he growled, hand fingering the pommel of his blade. “We can't afford to stop with the darkspawn growing in numbers. Who's to say Redcliffe hasn't already fallen?”

He spoke to Brielle as though deferring to her judgement, respecting her position, despite the still strained relationship between them. She could only sigh, however, and look away, arms crossed. 

“I know,” she said softly. “But Wynne is a special case, and if we have to stop every now and then to make sure she's well, then so be it. She's helped me so much over the last year, and I won't make her feel like a burden.”

Loghain grumbled but said nothing, and Brielle offered him a piece of her jerky, earning her a look of suspicion. 

“Why are you offering me your food? I have my own.”

“To avoid an awkward situation,” she said, looking at him lazily through half lidded eyes. “Your things are with the rest of the party, and you've done a pretty good fuckin’ job of making everyone hate you.”

He blinked at her response, but said nothing, his expression as stoney as ever. He accepted her offer of food, and she gave him the bigger piece, already having ate a good amount herself. They ate in silence, the only sound being Peanut whining for a bit of the meat, occasionally pawing and both Brielle and Loghain, intelligent eyes wide and pleading. When he thought Brielle looked away, Loghain snuck Peanut a bit of his, patting the mabari on the head before finishing up the rest. She bit back a laugh, glancing over her shoulder at the camp; Sten stood at the opposite end, keeping watch as she and Loghain did, and Surana and Leliana were at the center, helping Wynne through her episode. The elder woman had her hand on her head, looking rather sickly, and Brielle had a feeling that they might be there longer than she wanted. 

Beside her, Loghain grew continuously impatient, fingers tapping against the pommel of his blade. She didn't know what to tell him, honestly; this was just the beginning of their journey, even if they had been on the road for a week, and was likely to impede their progress more as they drew closer to Redcliffe. She didn't particularly care to deal with his moods, should he continue to get grumpy with something out of her control. But how to distract him?

“Tell me about yourself,” she said, running a hand through her hair. Loghain looked at her sharply, brows knitting into an angry line. 

“Why?”

“Why not?” she offered. “We don't know anything about each other, aside from what others have told us, Loghain. I want to hear it from the source. How did you help free Ferelden from Orlais?”

He grimaced, as though talking about himself was the most painful punishment Brielle could have exacted upon him, and he straightened his shoulders, folding his arms unhappily. 

“It's not exactly a secret,” he said stiffly. “I'm sure you've heard it a half dozen times.”

Though he was distinctly uncomfortable, she could tell that it got his mind off of the situation at hand. She shrugged, raising a brow.

“I've heard bards singing the song in taverns, if that's what you mean,” she said nonchalantly, as though commenting on the weather. “Fanciful tales, mind you. Is it true you took on an entire Orlesian company of men by yourself, with nothing but a blade and busted shield in hand and slaughtered them without issue?”

He looked at her as though she had grown an extra head. “The hell kind of bards are you listening to? That's ridiculous.”

“I'm only saying what I've heard,” she replied with a grin. The expression with which he met hers was far from amused, and the look on his face was stern weariness. “I am Dalish, remember, and your shemlen tales don't exactly reach us like they would a human.”

While he wasn't inclined to tell her his past, especially since things often got blown out of proportion, the curiosity in her eyes seemed sincere enough, despite what her mocking grin might tell him. Still, he didn't feel like revealing anything to someone he barely knew, and he wracked his brain for something to turn her off from her questions. 

“Fine,” he said, and before her triumphant grin could widen, he added quickly, “But if that’s going to be the case, you’re going to have to tell me about yourself. I’ve encountered Dalish once in my life, and I know little about your people as anyone else does. It would be ignorant to assume the Dalish and the city elves are one in the same.”

As far as he knew, the Dalish were a secretive bunch, and he watched her curiously as she tilted her head in thought, regarding his terms. He could not read her expression, her features an impassive mask, but her bright blue eyes betrayed her thoughts, glimmering as she understood exactly what he was trying to do.

“That’s a deal,” she said, her lips spreading into a triumphant smirk, identical to the one she wore before. Loghain blinked again, his brows knitting together; so she had seen right through his plan, and shut it down before he even had a chance to see it through. He supposed he couldn’t back down now that she agreed, and he sighed defeatedly, having been bested by the elf woman.

Running a hand through his hair, he cast his gaze away. “What do you want to know?”

Brielle shrugged, crossing her arms. “Whatever you’re willing to tell me. Believe it or not, I’m not as nosey as I seem.”

He was pleased with her answer, and even appreciative, but his posture told her otherwise. Regardless, he took a breath, delving into his tale at the beginning, when a stupid young boy happened to run across Loghain and his companions in the forests of Ferelden, unaware of who he truly was. Brielle was silent the entire time, and though she watched Loghain for a while, it became apparent that he was not quite a storyteller when it came to his own tales, at least. He did not have the eloquence of a bard, that much she could tell, and talking about himself, regardless if the late King of Ferelden was involved, still caused him discomfort.

After a few more minutes or so, she turned away from him, watching the clearing, though still obviously paying attention to his tale. Brielle could hear the pain in his voice as he mentioned his father, and how he sacrificed his own life for the good of Ferelden. She could hear the anger and resentment for Maric, and the blame Loghain had placed on him then for the death of his Gareth Mac Tir. It did surprise her, however, when he mentioned the Dalish who captured them in the Korcari Wilds, but before she could say anything about it, a scream echoed through their makeshift camp, the sounds of footsteps thudding quickly and heavily against the grassy floor.

Their reaction was instant; Loghain’s sword was drawn, and instinctively, he placed himself in front of Brielle, whose daggers were already clutched tightly in her fists. Her eyes flashed quickly from side to side, and it was seconds later that a woman appeared, screaming frantically, her eyes wide and fearful. When she saw Loghain, she made a line straight to him, her hands thick with blood, scrapes and scratches littering her face. Tears poured from her eyes, and she clutched onto his arms, trying with all her might to drag him forward. 

“Y-you must help!” she cried, digging her heels into the dirt when he refused to budge. Brielle shifted herself around Loghain, sheathing one dagger before placing her hand on the woman's arm. Her skin burned, hot to the touch even through her glove, and Brielle pulled her back, bringing her attention to herself, rather than Loghain. The woman then reached for Brielle, her hand gripping her upper arm impossibly tightly, enough so that it was painful. She glanced at the hand on her arm, before looking back at the woman, the look in her eyes almost crazed. 

“What's going on?” Brielle said quickly, authoritatively. “What's happened?”

“D-darkspawn!” she exclaimed, and Brielle and Loghain glanced at each other, expressions identical, before turning their attention back to the woman, who continued. “In my village! They came out of nowhere!”

“Where is this village?” Loghain demanded, eyes flashing. “And how many darkspawn?”

“About a mile to the north,” she gasped between deep breaths. “I didn't see how many; I ran away to get help as soon as I saw the first.”

Brielle was silent for a moment, thinking quickly. They were Grey Wardens, and it was their job to take care of the darkspawn. She didn't see any other alternative, and when she looked at Loghain, he nodded stiffly, obviously thinking the same thing as her. 

“Stay here,” she said, and the woman cautiously let Brielle and Loghain go. Her entire body convulsed in fear and anxiety, and she wrapped her arms around herself, biting her lip.

Brielle continued, “My companions will keep you safe. We have experience with the darkspawn; they'll know what to do.”

She nodded hesitantly, and looked beyond Brielle, her eyes glassy and distant. The more she looked at her, the more she looked ill to Brielle, but she did not appear to be infected with the taint. Perhaps it was just because of the stressful situation she just ran from, but there was still something odd about the woman that did not settle well with her. 

“Wait.”

Surana approached them quickly, positioning herself between Brielle and Loghain. Brielle could see him sigh at Surana's appearance, but she said nothing, instead focusing on the elven mage, whose eyes were alight in concern and suspicion.

“I will come. The more Wardens, the better off this village will be.”

Brielle considered it for a moment before shaking her head. “No. We need someone to stay behind who can sense the darkspawn. I won't let our friends stay behind, unaware.”

“Then leave Loghain,” she protested. There was a clear distrust in her expression, but it was not unfound.

“They don't trust him,” Brielle said simply. “It's better to take him with me and keep him in check, than leave him behind where they won't respect his power as a Warden, especially since they have no reason to. We'll be fine.”

Surana's face hardened. “It's  _ you _ I worry about,” she said, with a pointed glare at Loghain. He rolled his eyes casting his gaze away. “I don't trust him.”

“Would you rather go with him and I'll stay behind?”

Instantly and in unison, both Surana and Loghain said, “ _ No. _ ” Their expressions were identical, angered at the mere thought of working together. 

“Then it's settled.” Brielle's tone was final, her features stern. Surana's eyes averted to the ground and Loghain kept his gaze fixed in the direction in which the woman came. With as casual as she acted throughout their journey, both had forgotten that she was, in fact, the senior Warden and de facto leader of their group, and her word was final. After a moment, Surana nodded.

“Be careful, Brielle,” she said softly, a hand on her shoulder. “We need you.”

Brielle bowed her head, a sheepish grin on her face. “You too, Hela. Keep them safe and on guard. You never know what will happen.”

With a curt nod, Surana departed, shooting Loghain a final glare, which he pointedly ignored. Perhaps it was silly to have only two Grey Wardens investigating the woman's claim, but she and Loghain were efficient in battle, and could easily fell a small horde on their own. 

They walked briskly, and Brielle was relying heavily on the powers her Joining gave her. She had yet to sense any darkspawn in the area, and that worried her. Usually, she was able to feel them relatively quickly, and as they approached a small group of buildings--cottages and a workshop primarily--she was very aware at the silence that surrounded them.

They soon stood in a grassy area at the center of the village, scanning the buildings. As far as either of them could tell, the village looked like it had been abandoned for ages. There was no life to speak of, no noise, and especially no darkspawn. 

“Do you hear that?” Brielle asked, looking at Loghain. He was silent for a moment, and shook his head. 

“Nothing,” he said, slowly crossing to the other side of the grassy area. “I don't see anyone either.”

“Yeah. It's too quiet. There aren't any birds, no dogs, and not even the wind. There's something unnatural about this place.” 

Loghain nodded his assent, surveying the area. “You don't think darkspawn--”

“No. It feels almost... _ magical,  _ and not the good kind of magic.”

As though on cue, a little girl appeared from the doorway of the abandoned house nearest to Brielle, slowly edging herself toward the elf. She was pale and gaunt, with wide, unnaturally green eyes that refused to look anywhere other than Brielle. From where she stood, she could hear Loghain's armor shift behind her, blade drawn and shield at the ready, though he did not dare move. The little girl, though unsettling, did not seem hostile, at least for the moment, and Brielle knelt, allowing the child to approach her without need for fear.

“They wait,” she said, her voice almost echoing in the air. The hair at the back of Brielle's neck prickled when the girl spoke, and concern flashed in her eyes when she briefly glanced at Loghain. His jaw clenched, and she could see the muscles in neck visibly tense while he turned slowly on the spot. It was clear to her that he expected an ambush, and the longer they stayed, the more Brielle was inclined to agree.

“ _ Who _ wait?” she asked, but the girl shook her head, her eyes still boring into Brielle's. A soft sort of haze began to envelope her vision, and while ordinarily it would be cause for alarm, Brielle was oddly relaxed. Soon enough, the girl was her main focus, her  _ only _ focus, and she had all but forgotten that she was not entirely alone.

“ _ They. _ ” 

This time when she spoke, it sounded as though it came from behind her, even if she had just watched the girl speak with her own two eyes. Still, though, this girl couldn't be dangerous, could she? She was so young and sweet, and her smile was too innocent to even begin to suspect anything of her. Brielle couldn't help but smile encouragingly, holding out her hand, though why, she wasn't sure. She seemed to have a hard time focusing on anything other than this odd child, and the longer the girl's eyes fixed on Brielle's, the more her own common sense seemed to waver, all reservations flying out the window. This girl could help them defeat the darkspawn, she was sure of it, and all she had to do was convince Loghain to bring her back to the camp with them.

“That's it,” said the girl. “Take my hand.”

Closer and closer Brielle reached, and the small hand drew nearer, prepared to take Brielle's within her own. She heard someone swear distantly, and while normally, it would have been cause for concern, the elf thought nothing of it. How could anything be wrong? She felt nice and cozy and a bit sluggish, and she hardly noticed how sleepy she had become. It was a familiar sensation, one that she had experienced before, but  _ when _ , she could not place. It seemed silly to dwell on it, not when it felt more comfortable than anything else had in the past year. It felt like home, honestly, and she was content to spend the rest of her time there…

“ _ Brielle! _ ”

Suddenly, the girl’s arm was rend from her body at the swing of a blade, and dark ichor splattered across Brielle's face, shocking her from her stupor. She jumped up, daggers in hand, and Loghain pulled her back from the child's body, which convulsed unnaturally, forcing both of them to look away in disgust.

“Demons,” Loghain growled, letting her go, turning on his heel to defend her back as she did his. She hadn't realized that they were slowly surrounded by a group of haggard looking people, as gaunt and sickly looking as the child, whose body had transformed into that of a sloth demon. Just like the child, their bodies twisted and changed wildly, starting at the bloody gashes that lined their arms. This was no doubt blood magic at work; Surana would have had a field day with these ridiculous people. Her own brand of blood magic was quite helpful, and Brielle had encouraged its use ever since they met. She trusted the mage without reservation, and she could only imagine how difficult it was for her to deal with power crazed blood mages when her own brand of blood magic was hardly as problematic. 

Now was not the time to think on that, however. The group that surrounded them consisted of about six people, not including the child-now-sloth demon. The air took on an icy chill as their transformations took hold, and Brielle could feel her heart race in anxiety as each person was replaced by a demon of some sort. From what she could tell, four of them were rage demons; luckily enough, she had a basic knowledge of demonic forms from her time in the clan, and Surana’s blood magic practices helped her learn even more about the demons that stalked the Fade. The other two were terror and despair.

“What do you suggest we do?” Loghain asked, equipping his shield, and Brielle thought quickly, eyes darting from demon to demon. Their wickedly sharp hands outstretched toward the Wardens, and slowly enough they closed the circle around them, the gap between each of them fading. Neither of them could use magic, and at this point, it would probably be best to take them down with brute force, and the faster the better.

“Take out the four rage demons first,” she said. “Then we can take out the other three together.”

He grunted in acknowledgement, and the pair lunged away from each other, blades slicing through the air. While strength and armor was on Loghain’s side, speed and stealth were on Brielle’s, and she was able to slip through a pair of the rage without difficulty, while Loghain faced his head-on.

Confused by her sudden change of position, the demons whirled around, searching wildly for any sign of the rogue. From their left flank, she attacked, her daggers slicing through the nearest creature’s arm quickly and efficiently, before she rolled away to avoid a slash from the other. Pillars of fire coalesced around the demons, forming a barrier around them, and Brielle narrowly avoided getting hit by the wall when they surged it toward her. It did manage, however, to singe a bit of her hair, and the pungent smell of burning hair pervaded her senses, momentarily distracting her. The demons took their chance, and charged her.

Flames seemed to envelope her as they surrounded her, but with each thrust of their monstrous claws, she was able to duck and tumble away, though at the cost of burning herself. Fortunately, her speed was enough to keep her on top of the combat, and after one sent a bolt of fire directly at her head, she threw a dagger directly at its face. It howled in rage and pain, flames bursting from its entire body, and with a ferocious yell, Brielle launched herself toward it, driving her dagger into the center of its chest. She pulled it down, opening a tear in its body, and as the flames that made up its form burst from its chest, it began to collapse in upon itself, its physical body destroyed.

The other rage demon screamed and launched itself at Brielle before she could retrieve her daggers from where the other demon once stood. It brought down its claws upon her, aimed at her face, and she raised her arm quickly enough for the sharp, dagger-like nails to slash her across her arm, tearing her glove and breaking the skin. She cried out in pain and rolled out of the way, stretching the fingers of her injured arm. They still worked properly, and she imagined the wound was only topical, but it was still enough to take away her focus for even a moment. Across the battlefield, she watched as Loghain bashed his shield against the face of one, while his sword was driven into the ground, likely where the other demon stood, not moments before. He caught her eye briefly, nodding, before backing away from the demon, likely to retrieve his blade from where it stood.

Brielle faced her own demon again, which approached her quickly and angrily. As it swiped at her head, she ducked out of the way, using the opportunity to drive her fist into the creature’s side. She doubted it would do much, as this  _ was _ a demon, but it was enough to momentarily stun it as she doubled back to where her daggers lay on the ground, awaiting her move. Quickly, she sprinted to where they lay, and dove to grab them, rolling away. Clutching them in her fists, she sprung to her feet and launched herself toward the demon again. It was still occupied with the fact she had punched it, and as it turned around to attack again, it realized it was too late as two blades impaled its chest, cutting it in the same way as its companion. It howled in rage and agony, and its body burst into flames, exploding at the contact. Brielle just managed to get herself out of the way, throwing up her arms to protect herself from the fire that rushed toward her, and the second demon was no more.

She breathed heavily, only allowing herself a moment before surveying the battlefield. Loghain was at the opposite end, shoulders heaving at the exertion the demons forced, and his eyes darted quickly from the terror and despair demons, calculating which to take on first. Unfortunately, the despair demon had other ideas.

A flash of ice sprung from the ground where the demon hovered, traveling quickly to where Loghain stood. At the last moment, he sprung out of the way to avoid being impaled by the shard, and the demon growled, fixed on its prey. It had, evidently, made up Loghain’s decision for him, and as the warrior took off toward the demon, his progress was hindered as the creature continuously sent shard after shard of ice after him, forcing him to jump out of the way and rethink his strategy. It became apparent to Brielle that it was how this particular demon fought, and after Loghain jumped away from the most recent attack, he seemed to understand this as well. Regardless, the demon continued with its attacks, and there was little Loghain could do at the moment than avoid being impaled.

Brielle prepared to throw her daggers at the beast, but a flash of movement from Loghain’s left caught her attention. Clearly taking advantage of the situation, the ground at the terror’s feet seemed to shimmer, opening up a sort of portal that it could disappear into, and on the ground near Loghain, the same happened. Comprehension dawned on Brielle as she realized what was about to happen, and she launched herself across the field seconds before the terror demon disappeared, shifting through the portal it had created.

There was a bit of room between Loghain and the shimmering ground, but he was too preoccupied with the despair demon to take note as to what was happening. A bolt of ice flew toward him, through the air instead of the ground, and it was at the last second that he was able to throw his shield through the air to keep it from hitting his face. The ice exploded into hundreds of tiny shards, and he threw up his arm, shielding his eyes from the impact. It was then that the ground quaked beneath his feet from behind him, and he whirled around in time so see Brielle forcing herself into the small space between him and the terror demon that seemingly erupted from the ground.

The creature shrieked, passing its hand in the space between it and Brielle, and its claw caught her across the face, tearing a gash across her cheek, right beneath her eye. She hissed, throwing out her dagger to catch it in the stomach, feeling herself stumbling back into Loghain, and the creature jerked, pulling the blade from her hand. She swore, preparing to defend herself with the blade of her injured arm, but before either she or the demon had time to react, a blade rend the demon’s head from its shoulders as Loghain twisted around her to protect her from the brunt of the creatures attack, should he have missed his quarry. 

Ichor spilled from its neck, coating Brielle in another layer of demonic filth, and she couldn’t help but wince as the cut across her face pulsed in pain. She couldn’t waver, however, and she reached for her dagger, spinning toward Loghain as she prepared to help him take on the demon of despair.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” he growled, eyes sweeping over Brielle to make sure she wasn’t mortally injured. “You could have gotten hurt far worse than you did.”

“Someone had to watch your back,” she replied, a wry grin spreading across her features. “It’s more fun this way.”

He rolled his eyes, muttering, “Reckless,” but said no more as the pair of them turned toward the other demon. Its head, if that’s what it could be called, cocked to the side, realizing it was two-against-one now, and its large, cruel hands were suddenly enveloped in a frosty haze. Loghain had since lost his shield after throwing it, and Brielle tossed him the smaller of her two daggers to help defend himself, pulling a third from a sheath on her belt. As though of one mind, the pair of them sped toward the demon simultaneously, each letting loose a war cry of their own. The shouts echoed in the air, and the demon loosed two bolts of icy energy at each of them, though more focused on Loghain, the harder of the hitters. He grunted as he jerked out of the way, but the shard of ice managed to hit his pauldron, forcing his shoulder back at an odd angle. Brielle ducked under her own shard as it passed her by, and she began to zigzag on the field when the demon began attacking from the ground again. 

Loghain continued on a straight path, forcing the demon to think quickly on how to take them both out, but it proved difficult as he and Brielle approached it at different speeds and locations. Brielle was faster than he was, not weighed down by his heavy armor, but Loghain threw the dagger she had lent him at the creature, forcing it to focus on him, and him alone. Turning to face Loghain, it gathered all its energy to attack him in one, icy blow, and Brielle could see the ground beneath it become an icy trap that he would no doubt fall into. However, the look on his face told Brielle enough; he knew what he was getting into, and it was his idea to draw the demon’s ire so that she might be able to ambush it from behind. A feral grin spread across her lips as she changed her path quite suddenly, and with a burst of speed, she jetted toward the demon, her legs protesting at the exertion. She did not relent, however, and as the demon made to launch its attack Loghain, Brielle closed the gap between she and it, thrusting herself into the air and bringing her daggers down into its back with a vociferous growl.

It screamed, a nasty grating sound that had Brielle grinding her teeth together to keep her from losing her focus. She pulled her blades from its back before it could throw her off, and she jumped from the creature, landing a few feet away from Loghain. She stumbled back several steps, and doubled over as she caught her breath, but looking up, she watched as the despair demon, too, exploded, it body fading away into nothingness.

There was still the matter of the sloth demon, however, and both Brielle and Loghain looked toward it threateningly. The demon had not moved from where it stood as a little girl, and slowly, its head turned from side to side, wondering how its plan could have failed so miserably. Brielle straightened up, prepared to launch herself at it if need be, but Loghain held her back, bidding her wait. They stood in silence, breathing heavily, and watched as the demon looked back at them, a deep chuckle shaking its form, before the creature disappeared into thin air, leaving no trace of its existence.

“What the fuck,” Brielle sighed, wiping the ichor on her blades on her pants. Sheathing the daggers, she retrieved her third, as well as Loghain’s shield “Darkspawn is my specialty, not demons. Maybe I  _ should _ have brought Hela with.”

Loghain grunted, meeting her when she returned with his shield, handing it off. He inspected the front of it, noting a few minor dings and scratches, but nothing that would require replacing it entirely. Brielle took a moment to catch her breath, her heart still racing from the fight, and truth be told, she was relieved that the sloth demon decided to flee rather than face them. It was difficult to take on several demons when there were only two of them, but they fought well together, and came out victorious in the end.

“You’re bleeding,” Loghain said, strapping the shield to his back. Brielle glanced at him, raising a brow, before showing off the bloody gashes on her arm.

“I am,” she replied with a chuckle. “One of the rage demons got me pretty good, but it’s not too deep. I should be fine.”

Loghain rolled his eyes. “No, not there.” Instinctively, he reached out to run his thumb under her eye, using his palm to wipe away the blood that ran down her cheek. “The one got you across the face, or did you forget?”

Brielle gaped, having stiffened the moment he had touched her face. When he pulled away his hand, she touched her skin where he had been not moments before, seeing the blood drip off his glove.

“I must have,” she said offhandedly. Her cheek was hot, likely from the gash that still seeped blood, but she had to quickly avert her gaze when Loghain raised a brow. “Honestly, everything happened so fast that I didn’t even notice.”

He huffed and shrugged, accepting her answer. “It happens, I suppose. I couldn’t tell you how many times I came back from a battle with an arrow in my shoulder and didn’t notice. Had Maric not said something, I’d be walking around with them to this day.”

Brielle laughed softly, unsurprised. He didn’t seem like the sort to take too much stock in his injuries if he didn’t have to. She supposed it was handy on the battlefield to keep fighting, unhindered, but at the same time, it could prove to be far worse than need be.

“We should head back, then,” she finally said, nodding her head in the direction of the camp. “We’ll need to let the others know--”

Before she could finish her thought, a terrible roar echoed throughout the area, rattling her bones and forcing the hair on the back of her neck to rise. Her eyes snapped to the direction of their camp, and then to Loghain, whose face visibly paled at the sound.

“The woman,” he groaned. “She must be one of them.”

Brielle tugged on his elbow frantically, before setting off at a dead sprint. “Let’s go!”


	5. Chapter 5

They ran as fast as their weary legs would carry them, muscles screaming in protest as they pushed harder. How this could happen, Brielle did not know; her expertise in demons was lacking, and Surana was the expert on the malicious denizens of the Fade, but if she had one guess, Brielle assumed they wanted to enter the living world through their bodies. And the woman, screaming in terror of the looming threat of darkspawn, was an easy enough guise to hide behind. Brielle was a Grey Warden, which was obvious enough; she should have known immediately that it was a trap when she didn’t sense a single darkspawn within the area, but she didn’t think it was right to leave them and not even check. After all, it was  _ her _ job to defeat them. What kind of Warden would she be, had she not at least taken a look around?

Still, she felt foolish for falling for the trick, but now was not the time to dwell on it. They rounded the final corner, and Brielle nearly tripped over herself when she slid to a sudden halt.

At the center of the camp was an enormous pride demon, far larger and scarier than any she had previously encountered. Around it was a plethora of smaller, weaker demons, likely there to overwhelm their group easier so the pride demon could take its prey faster. Beside her, Loghain swore, and he and Brielle unsheathed their weapons again, prepared for battle. Surana was already shouting above the din, her experience with demons far greater than even Wynne or Morrigan’s, and she issued strategies as best as she could to the rest of the group. Leliana and Zevran were making quick time of the smaller demons, slashing and hacking through their ranks to get through to the pride demon. Wynne erected a magical barrier to protect those closest to combat; Brielle could see that it took great energy to keep it up, but the old woman was determined to keep their company safe at all costs. Sten, Oghren, and Shale gained on the pride demon, using their strength against its dangerous wiles, and Morrigan and Surana attacked from beside Wynne, their magic working together to weaken the demons’ defenses.

Peanut came bounding toward Brielle from the other side of the camp, skidding to a halt to stand protectively in front of her. Luckily for them, the smaller demons were in front of the pride demon, being handled easily by the melee combatants, which left the back of the pride demon unguarded. Loghain could take on the brunt of the damage with Peanut’s aid, should it realize it was being attacked from the rear, and Brielle could come from the flank, ambushing it while it was distracted. 

As she eyed it, part of her wondered if she would be able to get her daggers through its thick hide, but this wasn’t the first time she had faced a demon like this before. While previous pride demons were smaller than this one, and less guarded at that, they still had the same anatomy, and she had been able to find their weak spots then. The plate like scales on its body looked awfully tough, though.

Loghain rushed forward, losing a war cry, Peanut on his heels. On the other side of the battle, Surana caught Brielle’s eye, her features relaxing instantly, but only for a moment. As Brielle entered the fray, Surana cast a well aimed spell at the creature’s face, hitting it directly on her target: the eyes. With a screeching cry, the creature raised one of its wicked hands to cover its face, stumbling back as it howled. It was then that Sten, Oghren, and Shale took their opportunity to hack at its legs, while Loghain and Peanut maneuvered around its stomping feet, avoiding being crushed beneath them. The mabari pounced, digging his teeth into the demon’s flank, and Loghain brought his sword crashing against the back of its leg, severing the tendon at its ankle. Another howl echoed in the camp, and it swung its arms wildly, knocking back anyone within the immediate vicinity.

The force of the blow against the spirit shields Wynne cast knocked her back as well, and the bluish haze that glowed around the group vanished as she lost her footing. It became quite apparent that they lost their shields, because now, Brielle heard small grunts and groans with each attack, and blood spilled more freely than before. Still, her companions did not relent, and a fierce pride welled up in her chest at the sight of their fight. A few feet away, Peanut whined, getting painfully to his feet. He refused to put any weight on his left paw, and Brielle rushed to his side to inspect his injury. Gingerly, she took it into her hand, feeling for any sort of broken bone, but could not find them, and though he did not put his paw down when she released it, he did not pull away quickly. She assumed he might have twisted it wrong when the pride demon knocked him away.

Suddenly, she felt herself pulled to her feet, startling her. Loghain had hooked his hand under her arm impatiently, bringing her back to the fight. He was a tad bruised, and not at all happy that he had to fight yet another demon after the shit he and Brielle just went through, but the longer they stood around, the longer this fight would be.

“Your people are distracting it,” he said gruffly, looking at the creature with disdain. “Its eyes are the weak point; if we get you up there, we should be able to bring it down without too much difficulty.”

Brielle watched as the demon continued to fight, but every time it might have gained an advantage, another bolt of magic burst in its eyes, from either Surana or Morrigan. The smaller demons were now all felled, and everyone else now worked at hacking at its legs and feet, hoping to bring it to its knees. However, the creature put up a hell of a fight, and would not go down no matter how hard they fought.

“This isn’t a despair demon,” Brielle growled, looking back at Loghain. She watched as a trickle of blood ran from his mouth and down his chin. “I won’t be able to reach its face without aid.”

To her surprise, he grinned. “That’s where I come in,” he said with a nod. “You’ll know when it’s time.” Without another word, he bolted back into the fray, ducking as the demon swung its massive arm again. 

Peanut whined beside her, but she shook her head. “You’re hurt, buddy. Leave this to us.” His wide eyes looked up at Brielle sadly, but there was a flicker of understanding within them that told her he would obey. He nudged her hand with his nose, licking it, before limping back, safely out of harm’s way.

She felt useless, watching the others fight as she waited for the signal, but if Loghain had the plan, she doubted he would be wasting her time. Still, it agonized her watching her companions get injured as she remained relatively fine, and she hunched over, prepared to bolt the moment it became obvious that it was her time to strike. The demon roared as another magical attack hit its face, and it turned on its massive feet to face Brielle’s direction. Her heart raced in anticipation, watching it swing at Loghain, who stood at its feet, defending, and when he ducked to avoid the blow, placing his shield to his side like a sort of ramp, it was then Brielle knew what she had to do.

With a speed that she had not run in ages, she launched herself toward Loghain and the demon, ignoring the pain of exertion. She only had one shot to land this, and if she didn’t hit the shield just right, she could be badly injured, and even killed. Still, there was no time to think about it, and as the distance between them closed, all it took was a powerful leap for her to land on the shield. She felt Loghain push up beneath her, propelling her into the air with all his strength, and she pushed off the surface, brandishing her daggers as she flew directly at the pride demon’s face. It felt like everything was in slow motion; the creature opened its mouth in pain as the rest continued to slash at its body, and as she gained height upon it, she brought her daggers down onto its face, holding on to her weapons for dear life. The creature howled as she stabbed it continuously, and she struggled to stay on as it thrashed about, doubling over. Beneath them, she could see Loghain lift his sword, driving it directly into the demon’s chest, and its entire body convulsed, causing Brielle to lose her grip and throw her from the creature’s head. Unfortunately, however, she was unable to avoid the final swipe of its hand, and she felt claws scrape against her torso, tearing through the fabric of her clothing as it threw her into the base of a tree, where she landed heavily, the breath knocked out of her. She saw stars, vaguely aware of the demon falling to the ground, and the pain on her stomach and chest was only a dull throb as adrenaline continued to pulse through her body. Her weapons were still embedded deeply into the creature’s face, and her companions continued to hack at it until it moved no more.

Leaning her head back, she closed her eyes, breathing deeply. She had no idea if anything was broken, but her head pained her at the impact. Her hand clutched the ground, trembling, and she forced herself up slowly, doing what she could to keep herself from hurting too much. Peanut limped over to where Brielle struggled to move, allowing her to use him as support, and both Surana and Loghain rushed toward her, the former shooting the latter a glare as he returned with Brielle’s weapons.

“W-what happened?” Brielle groaned, taking her daggers back, one at a time. The blades had been cleaned for her, she noticed, before putting them away. “What happened after we left?”

“The woman just...started laughing,” Surana said, wiping some blood from her nose. “We assumed it was from the shock of darkspawn, or anxiety or something, but she didn’t stop. I checked to see if she was affected by the taint, but nothing.” She paused, brows knitting together. “She swiped an herb knife from Wynne and then just started stabbing herself. We tried to stop her, but she threw us off like we were rag dolls...and then she turned into a pride demon.”

“Figures,” Brielle said, coughing. “We ran into a bunch of people in an abandoned village. And they, well--”

She stopped suddenly, swaying forward dangerously. Both Surana and Loghain caught her by the arm, and Brielle’s hand which had been on her stomach moments before, drew away, covered in blood. Her features visibly paled when she reached out for support, and Surana looked at Loghain in concern, pressing him to finish the tale.

“They were demons, all of them,” he grunted, allowing Brielle to use him to keep herself upright. “We killed them all, save for a sloth demon, but I have a feeling it won’t be bothering us.”

Surana nodded, immediately placing Brielle’s arm around her shoulder. She had seen her get thrown off the pride demon after stabbing it, but she hadn’t realized that the demon had cut her across the chest with its wicked claws. With Loghain’s help, she dragged Brielle back to the camp, yelling for someone to pitch a tent, and quickly. It became strikingly obvious that Brielle took more damage than she let on, and as they eased her to the ground, Surana supporting her head in her lap, Loghain barked orders to the rest to get moving. Naturally, it earned him several angry glares, but at the moment, Brielle’s condition was more important than any hatred they harbored for him. Soon enough, a tent was unravelled, and Surana carried Brielle within, laying her on a mat as Wynne entered behind them in order to assist.

During that time, Brielle was in and out of consciousness, her vision flickering and fading. She couldn’t have gotten  _ that _ hurt, could she? She didn’t think so, but as the adrenaline wore off, her entire body ached, and the splitting pain in her torso grew more and more pronounced until she was wheezing heavily, vaguely aware of Surana and Wynne working frantically around her.

And all went dark.

\--------

When she finally came around, everything was dark and still.

Brielle opened her eyes blearily, her head pounding like nothing she had ever felt before, save for the Joining. Honestly, with the way her body ached, it felt as though she had gone through it a second time, Creators forbid. Still, as her memories came flooding back to her, she was stunned that she wasn’t more broken than she actually felt. An entire  _ pride _ demon had thrown her with all its strength, and she had still been able to survive. Even so, every time she breathed, it pained her, and she was suddenly aware that her clothes had been changed into something more kind to her body, and her entire chest was wrapped in bandages from just above her breasts to her right above her hips. Even her hand was bandaged, and those cuts weren’t nearly as bad as what the pride demon had wrought.

She sighed, sitting up slowly. Well, that definitely hindered their progress, and now her injuries were going to slow them down even more. She didn’t want to overexert herself and break her wounds open if she could help it, and even she knew Wynne only had enough energy for some healing magic. Surana tried to keep her blood magic to a minimum when in camp, and Brielle wasn’t even sure it could heal in the same way as Wynne’s spirit magic, so she wouldn’t push it, not until the scabs were ready to fall.

With a deep breath, she steadied herself, slowly rising to her feet. Her head danced, the world around her spinning, and she closed her eyes tightly at the nauseous sensation bubbling in her stomach. Part of it, she supposed, was because of how hard she hit her head, but the other part told her that she was famished, rolling her eyes as her stomach rumbled. Gingerly, she took a step, and then another, until she reached the mouth of the tend, forcing herself through the flap.

The cool night air bit at her skin, and she hissed, berating herself for not grabbing a blanket, but she had already made it this far, and to turn back would be more energy than she cared to exert. Looking up, the moon was high overhead, and she gasped in surprise. How long had she been out? How long had she slept as her wounds were tended and she regained her energy. How hard did that demon hit her to hurt her so?

“You’re awake. Good.”

From a few yards away from her tent, a fire crackled, and Loghain sat upon the ground, tending the flame. Brielle blinked in confusion; surely he was hurt and needed his rest as well, but he seemed unbothered by the fact that he was awake so late at night.

“You took one hell of a hit,” he continued, icy blue eyes watching her every move, as though waiting for her to collapse. She hated the feeling of helplessness, and she wrinkled her nose when she met his gaze. “Your surley friend and the old woman didn’t think you’d be up until the morning.”

“Hunger waits for no one,” Brielle grumbled, slowly easing herself next to him. As she stood, looking at the ground to figure out how best to sit without hurting herself more, she heard Loghain chuckle, and she shot him a warning glance, to which he shrugged.

“It’s different, seeing you so fragile,” he said, holding out a hand to help her. She scowled, waving it away, and he shrugged, shifting himself in case she fell. “I didn’t mean it in a bad way.”

“I know what you meant,” she snapped angrily, first sliding to one knee, and then the next. “I should be able to take care of myself. I don’t need  _ you _ to babysit me.”

Loghain’s brows furrowed when she finally found a comfortable enough position. “I didn’t mean to offend,” he said slowly, awkwardly. “I’m sorry if I did.”

His apology did nothing to sate her anger, and she found her rage growing by the moment. “Were you sorry when you let my people be sold into slavery? Until you are, I don’t need your hollow apologies.”

He blinked, surprised by her sudden venom. Truth be told, he was waiting for this conversation the moment she stayed her blade when they dueled, and truth be told, he did not know how to answer. At the time, it seemed the necessary thing to do to keep Ferelden’s armies to where they needed to be, yet to tell the Warden? He could think of a dozen things he’d rather do than face her wrath, so quickly after she had nearly killed him. The truth was bound to show up at some point, but for the moment, he could not bring himself to it. No matter how much he might try to justify himself, he was beginning to realize how bad it looked, all around. He looked away from her angry glare uncomfortably, into the fire that roared between them. No amount of explanation would excuse his past actions, and knowing Brielle for the short time he had, Loghain knew she would take no bullshit.

“No amount of apology will suffice,” he said slowly, still not meeting her eyes. “And no explanation could excuse my actions, and I am not a man to make an excuse to push my decisions to someone else.” He took a breath, finally allowing himself to look at her. Brielle’s eyes were still enraged, and her frown deep, but her expression was not as deadly as it was when she first spoke.

“You’re right, it  _ won’t _ ,” she said, her voice dangerously low. “I can understand your actions at Ostagar; it was a fool’s notion to think we could have won that battle, and I would have saved my men as well. And waiting for Orlais to help? I’m no Ferelden, but my people have suffered and been victimized by the Orlesian Empire and the Chantry, and I hold no love for them. But the alienage elves, elves who already have the worst in Ferelden...to have them sold into slavery? For what  _ reason _ did you think that was a good idea? Did your hatred of Orlais spurn you? Did you grow so paranoid as regent on the throne that you would do anything to keep suspicion off of you?” She paused for a moment, reveling in his discomfort. She wanted him to feel bad, she wanted him to feel like his skin was crawling. “I’ve heard the stories, Loghain Mac Tir. This is extreme for you.”

He met her gaze unwaveringly, but she was absolutely right. “There is nothing I can say that you won’t see through, Brielle Mahariel,” he said. “You’re right about all of it, and I was prepared to die by your hand for my crimes against the crown.” He paused. “Sparing me was a kindness I did not deserve, and yet you did.”

“Being a Grey Warden isn’t a kindness,” she said, and though her face was still angry, her voice was far softer than before. “It’s a punishment. A death sentence.”

Loghain nodded. “I see. In that case, I suppose I do deserve this. But why prolong my death? Why not just  _ end _ me there?”

Brielle was silent for a good while, looking into the fire to search for her answer. She fiddled with the frayed end of her overshirt, letting that silence hang between them, and she bowed her head, a soft sigh escaping her lips.

“A quick death is too easy. You don’t suffer for what you’ve done, nor learn from the mistakes you made. You die, and then  _ nothing _ ,” she said, raising her eyes to him again. “But I saw potential. Potential and retribution. I told you I’ve heard the stories; Duncan told me your history on our way to Ostagar, of Cailan and of Maric. He told me about how you fought alongside elves to retake Ferelden. I’ve heard the bards, I’ve read the books. To see the man that claimed the regency from his daughter was the same, heroic man that these stories told me of was...” She paused, her frown deepening. “A  _ disappointment _ .”

The words she spoke were heavy, and he wrinkled his nose, looking away. But again, she was right, and there was nothing he could say, or would say, to try and change her mind. There was no reason to.

“I can forgive Ostagar,” she continued. “I can forgive your hatred for Orlais, because I share it. I can’t, however, forgive what you did to the elves in Denerim, and you’re going to have to earn my trust even harder, because of that.”

He nodded stiffly, and the pair were silent, both staring into the crackling fire. Brielle wrapped her arms around herself, shivering as the night wind went right through her. Part of her considered getting up and going back to bed, but she was too frazzled and hungry to even try. She was irritated because of her condition, and angry she had even brought anything while her emotions were so raw. Still, she was thankful he hadn’t brushed her off as some woman angry over something stupid, like many shemlen men often did.

Loghain glanced at her, seeing her obvious discomfort in the brisk night air. Even he wore a cloak that evening, though the cold didn’t usually bother him like it did her, but he had a feeling that it might have come in handy that night, and judging by how Brielle shivered, his hunch was right. He undid the tie at his throat, shrugging out of the warm fur, and he held it out to Brielle, who looked at it inquisitively.

“Don’t ask,” he sighed grumpily. “You’re shivering and injured. You need it more than I do.”

Brielle pursed her lips, but nodded, taking the cloak gingerly and wrapping it around her shoulders. It was still warm from him wearing it, and the tighter she pulled it around her, the more comfortable she felt. She noticed the faint, musky aroma that the furs he had lent her smelled of, and unconsciously, she tugged the collar closer to her face, more at ease.

“Thanks,” she muttered from deep within the cloak, and Loghain shrugged, waving a hand dismissively.

“Don’t mention it,” he said. “There’s a bit of food on the fire, if you’re hungry, leftover from dinner.”

Brielle noticed the food he mentioned, and slowly and carefully helped herself to some of it. It consisted of hearty meat and vegetables, as well as potatoes and a variety of spices. She spooned a bit in a bowl and sat back down, allowing the stew to warm her hands before taking a bite.

“Why are you out here?” she asked, absentmindedly stirring her meal. “Shouldn’t you be keeping watch or something?”

“I am keeping watch,” he replied, raising a brow as he glanced at her. “We took turns all day to see if you’d wake up and I volunteered for the night shift.” He paused, looking a bit amused at the thought. “Had I not volunteered for it, I’m sure your friends would have told me to do it anyway. They don’t exactly like me.”

“I can’t imagine  _ why _ ,” Brielle said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. Carefully, she spooned the stew into her mouth, savoring it’s flavor. It wasn’t nearly as good as the stew that used her Dalish spices, but it would suffice, she supposed.

“It’s missing something,” she commented after another bite, shooting a Loghain a look. He took a drink from a wineskin, offering it to Brielle in turn.

“Excuse me for not going through your things to find your special spices,” he said. “I’m sure Surana would have bitten off my head for even looking at you.”

Brielle laughed, taking a drink of the wine after. “She means well,” she said, handing the skin back. He took it with a sure touch, his fingers brushing against hers lightly, but neither of them noticed. “She was raised in the Circle, you know. She doesn’t like men who abuse their power.”

Loghain grimaced uncomfortably, and Brielle snorted, but with how her torso pained her, she didn’t particularly feel like keeping the conversation grim. She had already let her anger get the better of her once tonight, though for completely valid reasons, but getting her blood pressure up more than once would not make for happy bandaging.

Several minutes passed as Brielle finished her food, and Loghain absentmindedly threw twigs into the fire, avoiding her gaze. Having a belly full of warm food definitely helped her mood and warmed her up, and soon she found herself sitting nice and cozy in front of the fire, bundled up to her chin in Loghain’s cloak. Snuggled up next to him on the far side, Brielle noticed Peanut, snoozing dreamily, his paws twitching.

“How is he?” Brielle asked, and when Loghain noticed she was looking at the mabari, he gave him a pat, watching him fondly.

“He’s doing well. I think he twisted his paw when that damned beast knocked him off his feet, but he’ll be fine in no time.”

“Good.” Loghain took another drink from his wineskin before offering the last of it to Brielle, who took it thankfully, draining it in a single gulp. She wiped her mouth on the back of her hand, setting the skin down between them, before painfully pulling her legs up so that she could wrap her arms around them, using her knees as a headrest.

“So,” she said casually, tilting her head toward Loghain. “Your story got interrupted earlier; care to continue?”

This time, he laughed, shaking his head. “No can do,” he said, rolling his shoulders. “I told you a good deal of my story; I want to hear yours now.”

Brielle’s features hardened, and she swore she saw an amused glint in his eye. “I barely heard any of your story, Loghain,” she growled. “And we were interrupted.”

“Take it or leave it.”

She huffed, unwilling to argue any further, if only because she did not want her wounds bleeding more than they needed to. “Fine,” she grumbled, looking back at the fire. “What do you want to know?”

He considered it briefly. “Whatever you’re willing to tell me.”


	6. Chapter 6

The next week proved difficult for traveling. They had to take it quite a bit slower to keep Brielle from tearing open her wounds again, and she became winded far faster than normal. Breaks were often, if only for a few minutes, but Brielle kept them as minimal as possible, the pause in their travels irritating her. Even after a minute of rest, she would fidget impatiently, ready to get a move on before storming off to continue their journey, despite Surana and Wynne’s protest. Of course, it wasn’t long until she was doubled over again, fighting off the ache that had settled over her entire body, and several pairs of eyes rolled at her stubbornness, forcing her to sit down for even longer. She wasted more time than saved it, and soon enough, she learned that patience was key for her healing, as well as their journey.

Regardless, she still remained at the front of their procession, unwilling to let anyone take the lead. She was the senior Grey Warden, after all, and while half the time she was uncertain of what it was Ferelden asked of her, she did her best to lead. They deferred to her judgement before taking a route far less traveled, and more often than not, the paths quickened their journey to make up for lost time. She wasn’t, however, able to join her party on hunts when dinner came around, nor did they let her fight darkspawn in her condition. It was infuriating, to say the least; she was a Grey Warden, and often felt the darkspawn presence even before Surana and Loghain, and yet she was stuck behind, usually with Wynne, like a child under her parent’s watchful eye.

Still, it wasn’t all as terrible as she made it out to be. True to their deal, Brielle and Loghain took turns telling one another about themselves, no matter how uncomfortable they became. It was a sort of game, at times; when it was Loghain’s turn to speak, Brielle often found herself prying for more information than he was willing to let on, and as she ran figurative circles around him, she managed to find out things that had been buried deep within him for years. At one point, he spoke of Rowan, the late Queen of Ferelden, and something flickered in his weary eyes that Brielle had not yet seen of him. There was sadness, yes, but something more. Fondness? Adoration? Even then, he was a bit more animated when he spoke of her from the war against Orlais, and Brielle found herself admiring this woman, despite never having known who she was.

“She sounds remarkable,” Brielle said, watching Loghain closely. She was unable to tear her eyes away from him as he spoke, bewildered by the obvious affection with which he spoke. Of course, it proved to be an unwise decision. The area they walked through was densely foliaged, with leaves strewn about and roots sticking out of the earth in awkward places, making it far too easy to get hurt from tripping over them. Brielle was to be one of the unlucky victims, as they took one of the narrower paths, and had Loghain not seen the branch ahead of time, she would have very likely twisted her ankle. At the last second, he grabbed her arm, pulling her back, and Brielle started, finding herself pressed against his side, her foot inches from hitting a gnarled hunk of wood. Of course, that wasn’t to say that she didn’t get hurt; the arm Loghain grabbed was the one the demon had scratched, and it was still in the process of healing when he pulled her back. He let go quickly when she hissed, rubbing the tender area, and he cleared his throat, urging her to move on.

“You should watch the path,” he grunted, making sure Brielle stepped over the branch before continuing himself. “Hearing tales of the Dalish Grey Warden being murdered by nature before ending the Blight would be a story for the ages.”

Brielle made a face, glaring at Loghain, but decided that taking his advice would be far better for her health than not. Her arm still pained her, and she clutched it to her chest to keep it from being grabbed again, but she checked to make sure the ground was clear before glancing at him with an almost sheepish expression.

“Thanks for...uh,  _ that _ ,” she mumbled, turning her gaze back to the ground. Loghain raised a brow, his expression stern, but his eyes soft.

“You’re the leader of the Grey Wardens, Brielle. You’re the last hope for this Blight, and someone has to make sure you don’t get yourself killed before then.”

Brielle rolled her eyes. “Maybe I should have cut your head off in Denerim,” she grumbled. “I wouldn’t have to deal with your snark, then.”

Loghain laughed. “I hope you learned your lesson.”

“Yes...use magic when the Joining fails.”

“Surana was there, Brielle. She could have easily ended me if you wanted.”

Brielle grimaced, rolling her eyes again. “Alright, you’ve made your point.” They walked in silence for a bit longer, Brielle taking careful steps to ensure she didn’t trip again, but still thinking about how he spoke of Rowan. Clearly there was something there, something he wasn’t willing to bring up, but she was curious.

“Rowan…” she started, testing the waters. He shot her a suspicious glance, his brows furrowing.

“What about her?” he demanded. Brielle noticed how defensive he became at the mention of her, and she chewed her tongue for a moment as she thought how best to bring it up. She obviously didn’t want to upset him, but at this point, there didn’t seem to be any way around it.

“I--” She paused, frowning. “I’d like to know more about her, is all. Like I said, she seems like a remarkable person.”

Loghain’s eyes narrowed, but then he sighed, returning his gaze to the path before them. He seemed a bit tense now, and Brielle felt as though she had struck a nerve with him.

“You don’t ha--”

“She  _ was  _ a remarkable person,” he said, cutting Brielle off when she tried to change the subject. His voice was sad, tired. “She was taken from us too soon.”

“I know what that’s like,” she replied, the sadness of her own voice surprising even her. It drew Loghain’s eye, hearing the melancholy, seeing how her shoulders slouched, her head bowed. He had only seen her like this once before, when holding a locket buried deep within her pack. Perhaps the two instances were related.

“You do?”

Brielle hadn’t even realized that she spoke, and she could feel her stomach drop, her face warming at the thought of bringing her long buried feelings to the surface. Tamlen was not someone she could easily forget, and she thought of him often, with desperate longing in her heart.

“I-I do,” she said, clearing her throat. “But it’s not something I’m... _ ready _ to talk about.” If she was being true to herself, it was likely not something she would ever be ready to talk about, and least of all to Loghain. The man had been trying to kill her for the past year, and they had only known each other personally for a few weeks. It was odd that she even said anything about it, and part of her wishes she hadn’t said anything at all. But it was out there, now; she could only hope he didn’t go anywhere with it.

Loghain understood, and left it at that. Though the silence that fell upon them was borne from awkwardness, it soon became a comfortable quiet that they both were grateful for. Brielle did not want to mention Rowan again, for fear Tamlen might come to light, nor did Loghain want to think on the time he had with Rowan, during Maric’s escapades with the Orlesian elf. While the story of their battle against Orlais was well known, and told throughout all of Ferelden, there were some things that were kept hidden, and everything was better for it.

Their journey continued, even well into nightfall. Brielle did not like having to lose time because of her injuries, and she refused to stop to camp, despite some protest. At one point, however, they had to pause, and the entire group was witness to a shouting match in the dead of night between Brielle and Surana, when the latter tried to check up on the former’s bandaging. Brielle nearly shouted herself hoarse, but regretted every moment of it when her chest began to pain her, and Surana rolled her eyes, watching a bit of blood seep through her bandaging and staining her shirt. From that point, Brielle cooperated, but it did not stop her from fuming the entire time.

“No wonder you get along so well with Loghain,” Surana growled, tightening the fresh bandages around Brielle’s chest. “You’re both stubborn asses.”

“Someone has to be,” Brielle quipped, inspecting Surana’s handiwork. “And someone had to take that arrow.”

“Better you than me. He has some interesting stories, I’ll admit, but nothing would make me willingly ask him about his past. Just don’t pick up on his habit of arguing with everything and anything.” Surana wiped her hands on a rag, and Brielle pulled her shirt back over her head.

“I’ve done that for as long as you’ve known me, Hela,” Brielle said. “You shouldn’t be surprised.”

“Oh I’m not surprised,” Surana replied. “I’ve seen you nearly get into it with the templars at Kinloch. And nobility in Denerim. And Chantry sisters. And dwarves.”

“Do you have a point?”

“Just don’t get too argumentative in camp,” she said. “Half of us are a bit jaded that you brought him along, and nobody actually likes him.”

“You don’t say.”

“Shut up, Brielle. You’re the only person willing to hold a conversation longer than a minute with him, and what’s more, you seem to enjoy it. And  _ you _ , of all people, should be the one who’s the most jaded of us all.”

Brielle sighed. “I told you,” she said. “There’s potential there. His experience alone is enough to aid the Grey Wardens, and it could be of use.”

Surana pursed her lips. “You don’t have to explain it to me, I get it. I’m just not happy about it.” After making sure everything was in order, Surana departed, leaving Brielle to her thoughts.

\--------

Another week passed, and Redcliffe was now a little less than a day out. Brielle’s wounds had mostly healed, and they finally were able to move along without having to take a break every hour to make sure she was alright. While they were all happy to be done with her foul moods regarding her injuries, none were happier than Brielle, herself, was. She could finally hunt and fight without having to worry about breaking herself even more.

It was around mid-afternoon when they stopped, setting up camp earlier than usual. If everything went according to plan, they would reach Redcliffe at around that time tomorrow, and if that was the case, it certainly meant instant battle. Brielle wanted to make sure everyone was well rested for the oncoming fight, and if that meant delaying their arrival by a few hours, then she would take that chance. An exhausted soldier was no good on the battlefield, and more of a liability than she was willing to allow. It was better this way.

They camped in a forest clearing, the site surrounded by a thick layer of trees. Brielle wandered into the woods for some fresh air, and perhaps a chance to train with her daggers and even her bow; while she wasn’t severely out of practice by any means, she still wanted an opportunity to use her weapons after so long without seeing so much as a skirmish. She might have been on her own, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t stretch and test her limits.

Of course, alone was relative. She may have wandered into the forest of her own volition, but the powers granted to her by her Joining told her not only when darkspawn approached, but another Grey Warden as well. Surana and Loghain both had a different feel to them, she discovered, and not long after, it was easy enough for her to pick one from the other. Surana had a more  _ magical _ feeling to her, like an aura that crackled around her like the magic she cast. Loghain, on the other hand, felt heavier. They were both difficult sensations to describe, especially to someone who wasn’t a Warden, but she figured it didn’t really matter to them how it felt. All it matter to was the Warden, themself.

And speaking of Wardens, it was the heavier presence that slowly approached. He didn’t feel rushed, by any means, and Brielle vaguely wondered if Loghain was testing the power for himself, to hone it as Brielle had over the past year. Now was as good a time as ever; they had hardly been far enough away from one another to really get a feel for their presences, and while the battle for Redcliffe was on their doorstep, it was either now or never that he taught himself to use it. Brielle, on the other hand, had gotten quite good at tracking darkspawn and Wardens, and she assumed part of it was due to the fact that she was a hunter in her clan, and already a master of tracking, even without the taint. It was for that reason that she stuck her daggers in the ground beside her, shrugging her bow from her back and nocking an arrow, fitting it into place between her fingers.

She felt for him again, his presence like a beacon she was to follow. Raising her bow, she aimed it slightly to the right of his feeling, watching, waiting. He would find her soon, and she would show him how useful this tracking power could be. 

Loghain could feel her. She was quite still in the forest, but moved with lithe grace. It was how she felt, and if he didn’t know any better, the feeling of her mimicked how she worked as a rogue. She slipped silently, in and out of the shadows. Her blades were fast, her arrows precise, and the beacon that the taint made her was exactly the same. He found it difficult to track her; while he had the basic gist of how these powers worked, the opportunity to use them never arose, as Brielle or even Surana, found their quarry before he had time to reach out. It was second nature to them, even more so for Brielle, and by the time he even thought to reach out, they were two steps ahead of him. It was infuriating, but it also taught him to think as a Warden, and not just a soldier. Things were different now, and he had to adapt or be left behind.

Brielle was not far now, and she stood absolutely still, from what he could tell. It was odd, but not unheard of; she likely sensed him coming even before he began to reach out for her, and she awaited his arrival. He could not hide from her entirely, even if his stealth was better than what it currently was. He resigned himself to it the moment he joined her ranks.

Rounding a tree, he caught sight of her immediately, thankful that he tracked correctly. However, not seconds later, an arrow whizzed past his ear, embedding itself deeply into the trunk of a towering oak that he had been standing in front of not seconds before. His eyes widened, seeing Brielle at the center of the clearing with her bow raised, and part of him nearly started yelling, that was, until he saw the wry grin plastered across her face, the knowing expression she wore telling him everything he needed to know. 

“You were planning that,” he growled, pulling the arrow from the tree. She shrugged, unashamed, as she lowered her bow. “You could have hit me, you know.”

“Unlikely,” she chuckled. “If I hadn’t felt you coming, I surely would have heard you from miles away. Your armor is louder than Peanut’s snoring at night.”

Loghain glowered, approaching her. He twirled the arrow through his fingers as he drew nearer, and when he held it out of her to take, the second her fingers curled around it, he pulled it back, nearly taking Brielle with it. Her grin faltered, turning into irritation, before pulling the arrow back, and this time, Loghain let it go, earning himself a glare from the elven woman.

“Was Oghren bullying you again?” Brielle mused, inspecting the arrow for damage. “I was barely gone 10 minutes.”

“No,” he replied, playing along with her little game. A fallen log caught his attention, and he sat upon it, with his elbows on his knees. Brielle found no fault with the arrow, and stuck it back in the quiver, joining him. “The old woman thought it was in my best interests to lecture me, this time.”

She raised a brow as she took out her daggers, laying them both across her lap for inspection. “Is that so? Did you forget to wash your socks again?”

Loghain snorted. “If only that were the case. No, she’s worried that I might become too friendly with you. That I might, how did she say it? Influence you for  _ my  _ best interests.”

“Perish the thought,” Brielle said, feigning seriousness, though she could not hide her grin. She ran her thumb along the length of a blade slowly, careful not to cut herself. “She says that as though the rest of them haven't done the same thing. She means well, Loghain, but you  _ did _ spend an entire year trying to kill me.”

“Don’t remind me.”

She paused from her work to look at him. “What did you say, then?”

His hands clasped together and he brought them to his lips in thought. “I told her to  _ kindly  _ fuck off,” he said, glancing at Brielle, whose mouth was agape in surprise. “Maybe not in those exact words,” he added quickly, looking amused, easily hiding a grin when ran a hand over his face. “I told her I had a duty to the Grey Wardens, and a debt to  _ you _ for sparing me. I don't think she was convinced.”

“That sounds about right,” she said dully. “I had a  _ stern _ talking to after the Landsmeet; it was like the Keeper was yelling at me for hunting on my own all over again.  _ What if the wolf stalks you as its prey? What if Loghain kills you in your sleep? _ It was like the same broken record playing on repeat. Sorry for taking things into my own hands,  _ Wynne _ . For once _ , _ it felt as though the decision was my own and that I was making a difference. For  _ once _ , it wasn't a templar telling me to eradicate an entire Circle or a dwarven king-to-be sending me on errands for his dirty work.  _ Creators _ , even Eamon was pushing me to put Alistair on the throne without Anora. In what world would that work?”

He could tell she was fuming. Her hands clenched tightly around her daggers, knuckles turning white. Her jaw was tight, and he could see the muscles knotting as she frowned. He considered her thoughtfully, and Brielle was none the wiser as he watched her, too angry to even notice. Loghain had a thought; whenever the responsibilities of nobility proved to be more trouble that what was worth, or when something went terribly wrong without answers or explanations, he always found a good, heavy spar helped ease his tension. There was something about mutually battering one another with swords that calmed his anger, and if he thought he knew Brielle at all, he figured she could benefit from it.

With a grunt, he rose to his feet, drawing his blade. Brielle looked up, frowning, as he held the weapon before him, as though beckoning her to strike. 

“What are you doing?” she asked, and when he did not respond, her lips pursed suspiciously. Hesitantly, she rose, twirling her daggers before gripping them tightly in her hands; they hadn't sparred since their duel in Denerim, and that had been to the death, or at least until one of them submit. Now, however, it was a completely different case, and she was unsure of his intentions. She knew he wouldn’t purposely hurt her, but even still, it seemed an odd time to suddenly spar, amid their conversation.

“Sparring relieves tension,” Loghain said, slowly encircling her. Brielle followed suit, her daggers prepared to strike, but she stayed them for now. He continued, “Whether it be from anger or stress or frustration, hearing the sound of a blade against another helps ease it away.”

Loghain struck, not a second after he spoke, and Brielle managed to parry the blow, catching his sword on both of her blades. He seemed pleased.

“Surely there are better ways to do that,” Brielle said, her eyes darting about him, seeing through his defenses. It was different now; neither of them tried to kill each other, and a friendly spar was always a good way to gauge strength and train. Still, it felt odd to do so, and as her foot inched over a fallen twig, she kicked it up as a distraction before launching herself at him, blades swinging.

It worked, partially. He was able to dodge the stick aimed at his head, and as Brielle jumped into the air, coming down with the full force of her power, he managed to throw up his sword at the last second, blocking her blow. She was fast, he gave her that, and when she saw that her distraction failed, she pushed off his chest with her feet, knocking him back as she flipped through the air and landed several feet away.

_ That's it _ , he thought, regaining his footing.  _ Let it out.  _ He was pleased that she eased into the spar with little prodding, but she now watched him like a wolf hunting her prey. It would do him well to keep up with conversation; distracting her would give him an advantage. Rogues liked the shadows and underhanded tactics, so keeping her focused on the topic at hand could detract from anything else.

“Better ways?” he asked when she charged toward him again, her flurry of daggers more of a challenge than he initially thought. “You'll have to enlighten me, I'm afraid. Years at court hardly gave me an opportunity for anything else.”

As his arm came around to knock her off balance, Brielle ducked, rolling behind him. “Meditation, for one,” she said, sweeping at his feet with a blade. Unfortunately, he was too slow, hissing as he felt the flat of the dagger smack against his unguarded calf, and Brielle grinned, pouncing once again.

“Venting also works wonders,” she growled, thrusting the second dagger at his side, forcing him to sidestep. He whirled around sluggishly, throwing a powerful blow to her thigh which she narrowly avoided by twisting in place in a graceful pirouette. Unfortunately, the tip of his sword grazed her, ripping a gash in her trousers and breaking the skin. She hissed, a blaze flashing in her eyes, and she loosed a war cry, brandishing her daggers as she ran toward him again.

“Then vent!” he growled, their blades meeting with a metallic clash. Though she was quite a bit smaller than he was, her strike was still powerful, but even if his arm did rattle at the impact, he did not falter. Instead, he threw his weight against his next blow, forcing her to stumble, leaning back as her muscles strained against his strength. She did not relent, however, and she growled, using one dagger to parry the blow while she flipped the other in her fist so that the pommel rested where the blade normally would. As hard as she could without harming him too greatly, Brielle drove it into his unprotected side, and Loghain swore loudly, staggering back. Now she had the advantage, and as he recovered, he was forced to defend, rather than attack, as a flurry of strikes came, unrelenting. 

“Do you know,” she growled, punctuating every word with a strike, “how frustrating it is to get anything done with you shemlen?” She pushed off and jumped back, allowing Loghain to regain his footing. There was a trickle of blood running down his face from where she nicked him, a thin line against his jaw. 

“ _ Your betters are speaking,elf, _ ” she growled, her voice adopting a mocking, nasally tone. Loghain vaguely recalled Cauthrien saying something of the sort to Brielle at their first meeting since Ostagar, and he couldn't help but to feel annoyed at the memory. Perhaps he should have said something.

He felt a sharp pain at his side as her blade smacked him, having distracted himself from their spar. Brielle came for him again, daggers in her eyes, and he quickly threw up his guard again, blocking her next blow. “ _ Put Alistair on the throne, _ ” she continued, in her mocking tone, her blows growing more and more furious. Loghain was able to continue blocking her, but he waited for his opening, taking in her fighting style. “ _ Go defame Harrowmont on my behalf. Slay the werewolves, praise Andraste, leave Tamlen to die! _ ”

Her voice broke, and she was all too aware of how blurry her vision became. At this point however, it didn't matter; her blows were furious and grief stricken, and she felt her arms jar every time her blades met his. She was aware of the hot tears that streamed down her face, spilling onto the front of her shirt. She was aware that his strikes became more powerful as he gained the upper hand. It was all she could do to keep him from seeing her melancholy, her vulnerability. The world felt as though it had gone wrong since the moment she and Tamlen ran into the shems in the forest and all she wanted was some semblance of control in her life.

The flat of Loghain's sword hit her knuckles, and instinctively, she drew her hands back, dropping her blades. Looking up at him, Brielle glared, the fire of the gods blazing in her eyes, and unarmed, she darted under the sweep of his sword, rolling beneath him. There was not much she could do now that Loghain blocked her from her weapons, but she would not submit. Her rage spurned her on, her sadness gave her power. She focused on her strength and skills versus his; he had muscle behind his attacks, and she had speed. While he was big and strong, she was small and fast, and it was that which helped her win against Loghain in Denerim. 

And it was how she would win now.

Slipping under his arm, she managed to loop hers around his, rendering it immobile. Loghain grunted, trying to throw her off, but she climbed up his back, wrapping her other arm around his neck, holding on as tightly as she could. His jaw clenched as he reached for her with his free arm, but she continued to evade him. Her fingers wrapped around those that clutched his blade, and with a growl, she tugged back on the small finger, forcing it back against his hand. 

He hissed as it bent back in a way that it was clearly not supposed to bend, and try as he might to keep his grip on the blade, it was forced out of his hand, and it fell to get grassy ground with a muffled clatter. What happened next was a blur; Brielle jumped from his back faster than he could process, landing gracefully on her feet behind him. In a flash, she grabbed his sword, all the while sweeping her leg against his feet, pulling them out from underneath him. He felt as though he were falling in slow motion, and when his back hit the ground, the air rushed out of him, forcing him to sputter and cough, gasping for breath. Not a second later, he felt a foot on his chest, pinning him to the ground, and the point of his own blade flicked to his throat, lifting his chin. 

Brielle stood over him, sweat beading at her brow. He was surprised when he met her eyes, they were bloodshot and puffy, her cheeks red and tear-stained.

“I  _ yield _ .”

Brielle's shoulders heaved with each breath she took, and she could feel Loghain do the same beneath her. They stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity before Brielle lowered the blade, letting off his chest and stepping away. Steadily, he sat up, rubbing the back of his head where it hit the ground, and after catching his breath, he glanced up at her, a satisfied grin on his face.

“You fight well. I wasn’t able to gauge your skill last we fought.”

“For obvious reasons.” Brielle grinned halfheartedly, offering him a hand. He regarded it for a moment before he clasped it, and Brielle pulled him up with some effort, helping him to his feet. After a small bout of silence, Loghain gathered her daggers from where they lay, several feet behind him, and they exchanged weapons, Brielle’s head bowed as she hid her face.

It was easy enough to tell that she wasn’t alright. Aside from tears of pain, Loghain had never seen this sort of vulnerability from her before and it was concerning. She was quiet as she gathered her things, and he had half a mind to ask her if she was alright, but a greater part of him argued against it. He was never any good at confronting feelings, whether they be a friend’s, or his own, and to think he might have been able to ease the pain of a woman he barely knew was a foolish thought, indeed. Still, he was curious, and perhaps talking it out would make her feel better, but as he struggled to string a suitable sentence together, a single thought was all that escaped him.

“Who is Tamlen?”

Brielle froze, her shoulders visibly stiffening, even with her back to Loghain. She had not expected him to pick up on Tamlen’s name; she had said it in a melancholic rage, after all, and tried to brush it off as though it was nothing important enough to mention. However, the curiosity in his voice pulled her gaze to him, and he was startled to see a frightened and agonized woman staring back at him.

“T-Tamlen? He’s…” She trailed off, her knuckles going white as she clenched her fists. Loghain could tell he hit a nerve, and he wouldn’t be surprised if she attacked him right then and there. It was stupid to even mention it, so then why did he feel a need to approach the subject? What good would it do? Clearly, the mere mention of a person he could only assume was a clanmate had brought up terrible memories, and as the tears began to flood her eyes, rolling down her cheeks in pearly droplets, he was regretting his decision to mention the name more and more. Did he hope to comfort her?

“I’m sorry,” he said grimly, his expression hardening. “I shouldn’t have said anything.” 

Brielle’s hands shook. For an entire year, she had kept what happened to Tamlen under wraps, her emotions bottled up. Even when he appeared to her at their camp as a ghoul, forced to kill him with her own blades, she did not break. So why now? Of all the times, of all the places? Was it because of the build up of a dozen things over the course of a year, piling up on her shoulders? She lost the love of her life and her entire clan in the span of a few days, forced to live in the world of humans who would see her as less than one of them. She struggled, daily, with the life she lived, with the quest set upon her. She lost her best friend because of her decision at the Landsmeet, a decision she thought would better the future for Ferelden and the Grey Wardens, but at the cost of Alistair. Hell, it was up to her to end the Blight now, or at least that was what it felt like, and sometimes she wondered if the Creators were even there to watch over her. And if they were? Well they had one hell of a sense of humor.

Loghain turned away awkwardly. He should not have come; he was terrible with emotional confrontation that did not end up in shouting matches, and honestly, he would have preferred if Brielle would just yell herself hoarse at him. But she was  _ crying _ , vulnerable. She was a woman whom he had only known to put on a grin in the face of adversary, and she lost herself right there in his presence. Perhaps his idea to spar had been a bad one; what other negativity had he brought up in the duel’s wake?

“We...we were something,” she said softly, and had Loghain not been listening for her voice, he would have missed it completely. He stopped mid-step, turning only to look over his shoulder at her. Brielle’s back still faced him, and she appeared to be more relaxed than before, but the tension was still there, and the sadness that colored her voice was contagious.

“I’m sorry?”

“Well, more than something. The Keeper always said that in the end, it would be Tamlen and I,” she continued, running her hands through her hair. It was a moment before she spoke again, and she slowly turned on the spot, bright blue eyes watery and miserable, but they pierced his soul. “I haven’t told you how I became a Grey Warden, did I?”

Loghain didn’t know how to react, and Brielle could tell. She took a seat on the log they had previously used, her daggers on the ground by her feet, her bow and quiver propped up against the side. She did not look at him, but the invitation to sit was there, and hesitantly, Loghain approached, unsure as to whether or not he wanted to stay.

“It was a mirror,” she said, and as he sat down beside her, confusion was all he could muster at her statement.

“A mirror?”

“A mirror. It was in an abandoned ruin some idiot humans found. They told Tamlen and I about it before we ran them off, and naturally, we had to look into it.” She laughed bitterly, wiping her face on the back of her hand. “It was odd, like it shouldn’t have been there. Hell, we hadn’t even seen the ruin before, and my clan had made our home in that forest for a while since then. It was unnatural.”

Loghain said nothing, his face impassive. Brielle glanced at him for a moment before quickly looking away, embarrassed. How silly it was to lose herself in front of him; he must have thought her a fool, and for some reason, the thought that he might think little of her because of it bothered her. She brushed the feeling aside, continuing.

“We should have run out of there the moment skeletons started walking,” she said, a hint of darkness coloring her voice. “But we didn’t. We found a room that had nothing in it but a mirror, and a Blighted one at that. I tried to get Tamlen to leave, but he touched the damned thing before I could pull him away. It infected us both with the taint. The only difference is, they found me. Duncan found me. The Keeper suggested I go with him to become a Grey Warden, and leave Tamlen behind, but I protested. I couldn’t just  _ leave _ him. What kind of person leaves the love of their life behind because someone tells them to?” Brielle could feel the tears welling up again, and her voice caught in her throat. She covered her mouth, fighting back the sobs that threatened to overwhelm her. “So what if I was tainted, I could last. I needed to find him, he could have come along with us. Become a Warden! H-he was a part of the clan too! And they gave up on him! He--”

Brielle could speak no more. The tears had overwhelmed her, and she buried her face in the palm of her hands, feeling like an idiot. She felt weak, vulnerable. How the hell was she supposed to stop this Blight now? She had to focus on the bigger things, not her own life, not her own past! There was no time for her when the good of Ferelden, and Thedas even, was at stake.

Though she continued to sob, she choked back her tears. “I’m sorry, I’m being stupid,” she groaned. “There’s a Blight and I’m having an emotional breakdown in the middle of a forest.”

“No, you’re not.” Loghain’s words were curt, but there was an odd emotion behind them, one she had not heard from his voice before. She hiccuped, lowering her hands to her lap, watching him closely. He met her gaze steadily, icy eyes sad, and she watched his face for any betrayal of his true feelings on the subject, but he was as practiced at hiding his emotions as she was. Or maybe that was just his face. Regardless, when he grasped her forearm, she flinched in surprise, eyes widening.

“I was married, and my wife Celia, Anora’s mother, died several years ago. I understand your pain, though it’s not quite the same.” He felt awkward, sharing this information about himself, as it was not something he had mentioned since her passing. Of course, from what he could tell, Brielle was in the same boat, and found speaking of Tamlen just as difficult.

“And Rowan?”

Loghain stiffened, and Brielle could feel his hand clench around her forearm, though not painfully so.

“Rowan?”

“Yes, Rowan. The way you speak of her, I would have to be a fool not to realize how deeply you cared for her. You said she was taken from you too soon.”

“From  _ us _ .”

Brielle shook her head. “Sure, from  _ us _ . But there was more to it than just dying young, Loghain, wasn’t there?”

His brows knitted together as he looked into her eyes, and he knew that there was no fooling Brielle. She was intelligent and intuitive, and had a knack for picking up things others would have glossed over, and Loghain’s feelings for Rowan was something she had picked up right away.

“Yes,” he murmured, tearing his gaze away from her. She saw the pain in his eyes flash briefly, and Brielle knew she had touched the one soft part of him he had. “When Maric and the bard, Katriel, had their relationship, Rowan and I--”

Before he could continue, he felt Brielle’s hand rest upon his that still clutched her arm. While he could not bring himself to look at her, he felt her eyes fixed upon his face.

“You don’t have to talk about it, Loghain,” she said quietly, patting his hand. Her skin was warm, soft. It had not weathered from age like his own calloused hands, and it had been years since something so gentle touched him so. “I think I understand better than you know.”

She withdrew her hand, as he did his, and he found himself missing her touch. He wanted to shake the sensation out of his head, but did not want to potentially draw her ire, or worse, her questions.

Brielle sighed, rising to her feet. “I’m exhausted,” she said. “We should probably head back to the others before they get suspicious.”

“I think they’re going to get suspicious either way,” Loghain growled, his customary grumpiness returning at the mere thought of going back to camp. “Anyone can see you’ve been crying, and your leg bleeds from where I nicked it.”

Brielle rolled her eyes, reaching to run her thumb across his jaw. He flinched, blinking, and she snorted, drawing back her hand to show him the splash of crimson that colored her skin.

“So are you. If it really bothers you so much, I’ll just tell them I picked a fight with you. It wouldn’t be the first time.”

She bent over grabbing her bow and daggers, and Loghain looked away, scowling. “Fine,” he said when she slung her bow across her back. “But if Wynne says a word…”

“I’ll take care of it,” Brielle laughed. The way her face lit up was lovely, and even though her cheeks were still red, it was as though it eased away some of the sadness that couldn’t quite disappear. “C’mon, Loghain. We need to rest up. Tomorrow is going to be a hell of a ride.”


	7. Chapter 7

When they returned, it felt as though Brielle was swarmed the moment she was in view. Wynne intercepted her, elbowing Loghain out of the way, shooting him an angry glare when she saw Brielle's puffy eyes. A once over revealed her cut thigh and bloody pants, and though she tried to assure Wynne that it had not been Loghain’s doing, though technically it  _ was _ , all attempts to reason with her were futile. She rounded on him almost immediately, placing a magical barricade between he and Brielle, regardless of how she felt about the situation as a whole. Truthfully, she was furious; Brielle was a grown woman and Grey Warden, completely capable of making her own decisions, no matter how difficult they were. She lost her best and longest friend because of her willingness to conscript Loghain to her ranks, a decision not made lightly. She wasn’t sure if it was because Wynne was old enough to be her mother that she acted like one to Brielle, or her experiences in the Circle that gave her a more authoritative air than she would have liked, but as each day passed, Brielle could feel herself growing more irritable about the situation as a whole.

Loghain held back his temper as well as he could, even when Wynne’s accusations came flying. He was already rather unpopular with the group, and he knew that anything he might have said would have likely gotten him into a fistfight with at least one of them. He glowered when Wynne got into his face, her finger digging into his chest, and Brielle could see the muscles in his jaw knot as he bit back whatever scathing response he had prepared for her. Rather than say a word, however, he turned on his heel, blade in hand, and stormed off into the forest, seething as he went. Wynne seemed pleased that he was gone, for the time being, and as soon as the barrier she erected dissipated, she was startled to find herself face to face with Brielle, who was far more furious than she had ever seen her.

“There was  _ no  _ reason for that, Wynne,” she growled, her eyes flashing. “Please tell me your excuse as to why one of the four remaining Grey Wardens in Ferelden went storming off into the forest in the  _ middle of a Blight. _ ”

Wynne kept her composure, adopting a motherly air. Brielle  _ hated  _ when she did that; she had not known her own mother, and whenever Wynne took her under her wing, there was a distinct feeling of loneliness and longing for a mother that she never knew. She didn’t know whether or not Wynne realized this. Brielle never told anyone that her parents died long before she could ever know them, so while it was always at inopportune times that Wynne became motherly, she had no idea how greatly it affected Brielle.

“You’re getting too close to him, Brielle. The man tried to kill you more than once, and let Cailan and the Grey Wardens die at Ostagar. Surely you remember this?”

“Of course I do,” Brielle hissed. “I was one of the Grey Wardens that survived. I’ve been breaking my back for a year to keep Ferelden from falling apart; I’m sorry if my decision to conscript him was  _ too rash _ .”

“You should have thought a bit longer on it,” Wynne said sternly, her calm demeanor causing Brielle’s anger to flare. “We could have had Alistair with us, you know. Alistair, who would never harm a hair on your head.”

Brielle had to turn away, breathing through her nose to calm herself. “He would have left us in the end, anyway,” Brielle replied. “You know, to be  _ King _ . Wynne, I don’t know what I did to cause you to hesitate and lecture me with every decision I make, but I ask you…” She paused, facing Wynne again. “I ask you to respect my decision. He took an oath to become a Warden; if he breaks it, he dies. It’s as simple as that.”

“Is it?”

Two words. Two words, and Brielle’s eyes narrowed, her frown deeping into an ugly grimace. “Fine. Whatever. Think what you want of me and of my  _ rash _ decisions. The longer I’m a Grey Warden, the longer I have to be an elf in a  _ human’s  _ world, dismissed and dehumanized, the less I give a fuck as to how things turn out. At this point, I’m just trying to end the Blight, and while I’d prefer not to have my motives questioned every other day, I’ll deal with what I’m given.” Shaking her head, Brielle turned on her heel, disappearing into her tent.

The camp was silent for hours after the confrontation. As far as she could tell, Loghain had not returned from the forest, and Brielle was mildly worried that he might get into trouble. Of course, he was more than able to handle himself, but the stress was still there. The unbridled rage spread across his face when he left sent shivers down Brielle’s spine, and her stomach clenched at the apologetic look in his eyes when he looked at her as he stormed off. She felt as though everything was a mess, and it was all her fault.

She fell into a fitful sleep not long after, taking in as much rest as she could before the next day. There wasn’t much else she could do; while Brielle preferred to go walking in the forest, being one with nature as she often did when she was with her clan, she could only imagine that someone would follow her to make sure she wasn’t going to run off. Of course, that would also bring up the memories she shared with Tamlen when they both snuck away: the first time he confessed his feelings, the first time their hands touched, fingers intertwining. The first time they kissed. Just the thought brought on a deep pain in her chest, a pain that only the embrace of sleep could ebb away.

_ Damn it all. _

A few hours later, she heard soft whispers outside of her tent, and the flap rustled as Surana poked her head in. Brielle was a light sleeper, nowadays, and the sudden breeze that wafted through her tent was enough to rouse her from her slumber. She was buried underneath an immense pile of blankets, on top the furs that Loghain had lent her. Or gave her. She wasn’t sure which, and he had not asked for them back. Regardless, Brielle yawned, cracking her eyes open, and propped herself up, looking at Surana in confusion.

“D-darkspawn?” she groaned through a yawn.

Surana grinned. “No, Brielle. Leliana and I want to show you something.”

Brielle wrinkled her nose and got up, wrapping the furs around her shoulders. Groggily, she exited the tent, and Surana stood back, allowing her to pass. They shuffled to the campfire, which had some soup bubbling over top, keeping warm, and they both collapsed on the log they used as a chair, Brielle in the middle and Surana and Leliana on either side.

“It’s not much,” Leliana said, her eyes bright. “But we’ve been working on it for some time now, ever since the demons attack us.” From the ground beside her, she picked up some clothes, and even in the firelight, Brielle recognized the blue color of her Warden uniform. Taking it, she inspected it closely; the last she saw it, it was torn and bloody, long gashes cut along the front and arm. However, now it appeared to be brand new, as though Surana and Leliana managed to sneak away, somehow, and commission the Grey Wardens for a new set of clothing. Unfolding it, she twisted and turned it in the firelight. Had she not known exactly where the demons rend the fabric, the uniform would have looked flawless. Even Brielle had a difficult time finding the seams, and after looking it over, she bit her lip, thankfulness welling up inside of her.

“I-I don’t know what to say,” she said. “I don’t think  _ thank you _ is enough, you must have put so much work into it.” She felt several arms wrap around her shoulders, and soon both Surana and Leliana had enveloped Brielle in a tight hug. It was warm and loving, and a comfort when there was none. Brielle found it difficult to bite back tears, though she managed it, and she couldn’t even begin to express how thankful she felt. She knew it was just a uniform, and she could get it replaced at any point, but the fact that they took their time to repair  _ her _ uniform was just too much for her to handle.

“A thank you is all we need,” Surana said, her head on Brielle’s shoulder. “We’ve been trying to finish it for you before we get to Redcliffe, and after what happened earlier, we wanted to finish it  _ tonight _ .”

Brielle ran a hand along the fabric, a smile spreading across her face. “How did you manage to fix it so perfectly? I can barely see a seam.”

“Blood magic,” Surana replied without pause. Brielle raised a brow, but said nothing, knowing well not to put is past her. Blood magic was a specialty of Surana’s, and Brielle had seen her use it on the smallest, simplest things before, just because she could. So for her to use it to repair her uniform was completely believable.

“I’ll take your word for it.”

“Good,” she said, a pleased glint in her eye. “We made some food for you, so get eating. We’re all going to need our strength for tomorrow.” Leliana spooned some soup into a bowl, handing it off to Brielle, and she thanked them both again, setting aside her uniform so she didn’t spill on it.

“You guys are great,” she mumbled, stirring her soup. “Thank you.”

\--------

Brielle woke up early the next morning, Peanut stretched out against her side. The mabari took to sprawling out as long as he could, nestled up against Brielle whenever she so much as sat down. For a dog she had saved at Ostagar, he was her most loyal companion yet, and sometimes, with as much as she cared for the creature, and how he cared for her, she wondered if maybe there was a bit of Ferelden in her after all. Not that she would ever admit it, of course; Brielle Mahariel was proudly Dalish, and wore her heritage like a badge of pride whenever she was forced to be in shemlen cities. Anytime the Maker was mentioned, she was sure to mention the Creators. Any time the Chantry preached, she casually brought up the Exalted March against the Dales, centuries ago. Regardless of her status, she quickly became unpopular with the Chantry.

Peanut stared at Brielle sleepily as she rose, whining softly. He was not ready to get up, nor was he happy that Brielle decided she needed to awaken. The sun had not yet risen, and there was still plenty of time to sleep and snuggle, but she had other plans. After all, they needed to get moving if they wanted to make it to Redcliffe in time, before the darkspawn ransacked the village, leaving nothing but destruction and plague in their wake.

She dressed hastily, marveling at how well her uniform had been put together. She twisted and stretched, testing the fabric, and found it to her liking. Maybe Surana really was telling the truth when she said she used blood magic, because Brielle had not known a single tailor to fix a ruined garment with the same level of expertise as Surana had. Either way, Brielle didn’t care; as far as she knew, blood magic wasn’t inherently an evil power. Like any other weapon, it could be used for good or ill, it just depended on the person to wield it. Unfortunately, however, mages who relied on blood magic were not usually the good sort, but the desperate sort, the power hungry sort. At least from her experience in Kinloch, and the stories Surana told her, the decent people who used blood magic were few and far between.

Strapping her daggers to her waist and her bow to her back, Brielle and Peanut emerged from their tent, breathing in the morning air. It was still, cool, and she could hear the owls still hooting in the surrounding trees, the crickets chirping quietly. The sun was still below the horizon, and the camp was dark; the hour before dawn broke was Brielle’s favorite time of day, and back in the clan, she would often sneak from her bed to watch the halla as they awakened.

But there were no halla here. She didn’t know when next she would see the graceful creatures, and she missed them dearly. The halla keeper always told Brielle that if she decided she did not want to continue hunting, she would always be welcome with the halla. She had a way with them that not many others had, and what she would give to be with them again. Maybe when this was all over…

Dwelling on it made her sad, and Peanut brushed his nose against her hand, his tongue whipping out to give her fingers a kiss. He always knew when to cheer him up, and before she made to take down her tent and wrap things up, she knelt on one knee, scratching his ears with both her hands.

“You could never disappoint me, da’len,” she murmured, kissing his nose. “I’m glad you survived Ostagar.”

Peanut blinked at Brielle with intelligent eyes before returning her kiss, sweeping his tongue against her nose. She laughed, and wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his neck. The dog whined happily, his stub of a tail shaking his entire rear as Brielle hugged him. There really was nothing like the companionship of a dog; as intelligent as halla were, they couldn't compare to Peanut.

“Alright, buddy, why don't you go wake everyone up, and you don't need to be nice about it. I'm still a little angry after yesterday.”

Peanut barked and bounded off, Brielle smiling grimly. It was only minutes before the camp started to come to life, and it was evident by the groans and yelps that Peanut was not the warmest welcome they could have had. As heads emerged from their tents, Brielle could feel their angry glares while she paid them no mind. She busied herself with deconstructing her tent, folding everything tightly together into a neat little bundle. It didn't take her long; she had few possessions of her own, all of which fit into her pack, and the only thing that really took up any space didn't even belong to her. When she reached for the furs Loghain lent her, she ran her fingers through the fluff, reveling in the softness. Her journeys had not allowed her to keep anything of comfort, at least not for long, and even her stays in various residences, whether an estate or tavern, were not as comfortable as she would have liked. But the furs were soft and warm, and unconsciously, she brought it to her face, burying her nose into it. She'd had it for the better part of the last month, and while her scent had taken its hold on it, she could still smell the musky aroma that was Loghain's scent. Mixed with hers, it was something else entirely. Something warm, something inviting. It felt like home. 

Brielle caught herself not moments later, feeling the tips of her ears heat. She was sure it was nothing, but quickly and before anyone could notice the redness spreading across her face, she packed up the furs, shoving them away and out of sight. 

Rising, Peanut finished his task, and he bumped Brielle's hand with the tip of his nose. She patted his head, scratching behind his ear, and his leg started shaking rapidly. His eyes closed lazily and his tongue lolled from his mouth; he was a happy dog.

Tearing her eyes from the mabari, Brielle did a quick headcount, making sure the entire party was there. Leliana and Surana were wrapped around each other, eyes squinted from their rude awakening. Sten and Shale were a ways off, ready to depart the moment Brielle gave the word. Oghren barely made it out of his tent before he collapsed in a heap on the ground, and Wynne was disgruntled as she looked on in mild disgust. Zevran was making quick work of his area, and Morrigan stood near the entrance of the clearing, ready to leave, her golden eyes sweeping the area curiously. It was then that Brielle caught sight of a pile of items not far from where Morrigan stood, wrapped together neatly, and she realized that Loghain was not there. In fact, she hadn't seen him since he stormed off the night before. Ignoring the hollow feeling in her chest, she strode to his things, noticing a set of heavy, plated footprints leading from the forest and back in again.

“It would appear your friend has stormed off into the woods,” Morrigan said from behind her, and when Brielle looked at her, she could see the glow of magic slowly dissipate into the air. “He is not far, but he is not happy.”

Brielle's brow creased, looking off into the path that he more than likely took. “Why are you telling me this?” she asked suspiciously. “I would think you'd be happier with Loghain gone. 

A knowing grin spread across her lips, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “On the contrary,” she replied, folding her arms. “He is a vast improvement to what we  _ had _ , though, that is not saying much.”

Brielle wrinkled her nose, but said nothing. Morrigan's relationship with Alistair was less than amiable, and to have him gone from their company no doubt lifted her spirits. She would admit it was nice to not have them at each other's throats now, but she also missed Alistair's shenanigans and jokes, and the trouble they would get into. A line creased her brow when she frowned, wondering vaguely if they would ever have that sort of relationship again.

Morrigan watched Brielle with sharp eyes, the corners of her mouth twitching slightly in a small frown. “I do suggest finding Loghain quickly,” she said, a note of disdain in her voice. She inclined her head slightly toward the camp, where Brielle saw Wynne emerge from her tent, fully dressed and armored. “The old woman will be on your heels like a templar on an apostate should she catch wind of you disappearing.”

Brielle sighed, knowing well that she was right. “If she asks, tell her whatever you like,” she said. “I don’t give a damn.”

Morrigan smiled wryly. “Should I not tell her that you are a woman capable of your own thoughts and actions? Or perhaps I should suggest you went to dally about with blood magic in the morning mists.”

“She may approve of that more than she does of Loghain,” Brielle laughed. Though Morrigan said nothing, the amusement on her face was clear as day to the elf, and she nodded, assuring Brielle she would intercept Wynne, whether she liked it or not. 

Brielle ventured into the forest, irritation taking hold at the fact she had to sneak out of camp to avoid confrontation. While Wynne's advice was always welcomed when the need arose, now was one of the times where Brielle wished she would have left her in the Circle to help rebuild. It infuriated her to no end when she invalidated Brielle's decisions, as though she was too young to know any better. As though she was foolish. Reckless. Was it because she was young? Because she was Dalish, and did not often consult with humans? Or was it her need for some sort of control that she wanted Brielle to follow what she believed was right? She had all but preached the Maker to Brielle, and she was honestly surprised that the shemlen religion had not yet been pushed upon her. 

It didn’t take long before Brielle found Loghain; he made his bed in the clearing from the day before, far enough away from the camp to clear his mind, but just close enough to where he could run back quickly, should he be needed. Even with her power to find other Wardens, Brielle hadn’t used it. Her feet took her to the forest hollow as though on instinct, her senses telling her where to go. The sound of hacking and grunts, the splintering of wood under the pressure of a powerful blow soon filled the air around her, and rounding an oak three times as wide as she, her eyes fell upon Loghain, who was sparring with himself in the center of the clearing. She came to a stop, leaning against the oak she had just rounded, watching in silence. They way he moved with the blade was powerful, his power a strength, and his weapon was merely an extension of his arm, moving gracefully with each stroke. The victim of his ire was a sapling he fast approached, and with a single swing of his weapon, he cleaved the tree in twain, the force of the impact mimicking an explosion. Brielle raised her brow in wonder; it was something completely different to witness it as a bystander.

“I would hate to be on the angry end of your blade, Loghain,” she said, her voice startling him. He hadn't noticed her approach, though he was vaguely aware of the taint within her moving his way. Regardless, his anger was too great, his frustration permeating all thought, as he hacked and slashed away in the clearing, doing what he could to ease his mind. The row from the night before still weighed heavily on him, and should he return to the camp too soon, he might have done something he’d regret. It was better to cool down this way, than to talk himself out of any rashness around the rest.

“You've been on that end before, Brielle,” he said, glancing at her from over her shoulder. His blade dangled at his side limply, having lost his motivation to spar for the time being. “Or did you forget?”

“I remember, quite vividly, actually. It's just different to see it instead of experiencing it firsthand.” 

Loghain was silent a moment, looking away as he sheathed the blade, and it was a moment longer before he turned, the anger in his expression melting away, his face devoid of any emotion. He caught the slight twitch to Brielle’s mouth as she frowned. “I can imagine. I had a similar experience watching you take on those demons. It was... _ impressive. _ ” Even through his negativity, he gave her a grin, however strained it might be. It was obvious to her that the previous night's events bothered him, and Brielle pulled herself away from the tree on which she leaned, strolling casually toward him. He watched her skeptically, but said nothing, even as a smile spread across her face. As cheerful as she appeared, he could see the frustration behind her expression as well, and the weariness in her eyes could not be masked. She was just as angry as he was.

Brielle placed a hand roughly on his shoulder, giving it a shake. “How about a spar then?” she asked, tapping the pommel of a dagger. “You were right when you said nothing quite gets the anger out.”

Loghain briefly considered her proposal before shaking his head. “No,” he said, gently prying her hand from him, though his voice was stern as ever. Coupled with his angered expression, Brielle visibly recoiled, though he missed it completely. “I don't want to you cry again.”

Brielle blinked, her expression hardening. “Excuse me?” she growled, a grimace twisting her features. “I'm sorry that I was such an inconvenience for you, Loghain.” She could feel her anger rising, and she quickly pulled her hand away from his, resting it on her hip. “Next time, I'll reconsider saying anything.”

Loghain balked, realizing that his words came out completely wrong, and he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in irritation. “That's...not what I meant,” he muttered. “I realize I am not very,  _ ah _ , graceful at admitting my thoughts without it sounding like a slap in the face.” He paused, running a hand through his hair, casting his gaze aside to avoid her eyes. It was a moment before he spoke again, and his voice adopted a gentler tone. “What I meant was, I don't want to see you cry again. You're the only person in this damned group whose company I actually enjoy, and I don't want to be the cause of your tears, directly or not.”

He felt quite foolish now, and he folded his arms over his chest, chancing a glance at Brielle grumpily. Her anger had melted away, and she watched him with an odd expression he could not place. Her lips were still curved in a frown, a line creasing between furrowed brows, but there was something in her eyes that told him she was not upset. Was it relief? Contentment? He could not read the expression, and it was soon that he didn't even care to. He found himself looking into her eyes for the sake of it, memorizing their shape, their color, they way they moved as they swept across his face curiously. They were so bright and impossibly blue, and no matter the expression they wore, be it anger, sadness, or kindness, they shone like a light in the dark. He was caught in them, and could not force himself to look away, even if he wished to.

“I shouldn't have assumed, Loghain, I'm sorry,” she finally said, wrapping her arms around herself. There was a pained grimace on her face as she spoke. “I'm still a bit, well, frazzled after yesterday. After both our conversation and whatever bullshit Wynne decided she needed to pull, I haven't been quite the same, but I'm sure things will get better soon. I'll be relieved when the Blight is over.” She watched him steadily, trying to read his thoughts from the emotion his face betrayed, but even as they looked at each other in the silence, she could feel her face growing hot. His expression was nothing she had ever seen him wear before, and it confused her. The stoniness and disinterest that he adopted as the norm were nowhere to be found, and instead, a gentleness that was unfamiliar to her rested on his weary features. It wasn't long after that she had to look away, feeling her face burn, and she hid behind her curtains of dark brown hair, hoping the warmth on her cheeks hadn’t been noticed. While she wasn’t uncomfortable with the expression, she wasn’t entirely sure how to handle it, and for that reason, her body stiffened, fingers twisting the fabric of her clothes.

“No,” he said, making note of how her fingers twitched, but saying nothing of it. He could not read whether she was comfortable or not; truth be told, he was never good with emotional responses, and cold, hard logic got him further in life than anything else did. “I should have worded what I said differently. I did not mean to invalidate you, and I apologize.” He paused, trying to find her face through her hair. “You have been far kinder to me than I deserve, and I want to thank you for that.”

A heavy silence hung between them, broken only by the gentle chirping of birds in the surrounding forest. Unconsciously, he reached out, whether to touch her shoulder or take her hand, he did not know, but the moment he realized what he was going, he stayed his hand, fingers balling into a fist when he forced it back to his side. The grating of metal was obvious when his arm moved, and he was almost certain that Brielle had likely seen the action. However, had she not, it was more than obvious by the mere sound of his armor that she would have known. She was a clever woman, and too observant for her own good, but even as her ear twitched at the sound of metal, Brielle waited a moment before she looked at him, pretending she had heard nothing. Commenting would make the situation more awkward than she cared to deal with, and this unsettling thumping in her chest would likely bother her for a good deal longer. It took her another moment before she turned to Loghain again, her expression visibly calm, but her eyes bright.

“I know potential when I see it, Loghain,” she said gently, watching his jaw clench and unclench. It looked like he wanted to say something, but as his features hardened into their customary stoniness, he thought better of it. Regardless, Brielle kept her gaze steady, shifting on her feet, her hands falling to her hips.

“Riordan did have a point when he suggested conscription,” she continued, working through the annoying sensation in her chest. “And even if he hadn’t, I probably would have done so, either way. I lost my parents when I was young; I wonder what it would have been like if I had been raised by them, but I wasn’t. You were Anora’s last living family, and I couldn’t have done that to her, no matter the cost. It’s a shame Alistair couldn’t see it my way, but I can understand being fueled by revenge.”

“He could have handled it better,” Loghain said, and all gentleness he previously wore flashed into irritation and disinterest. “The damned fool would have thrown away all of Ferelden to make sure I died by his blade.”

“Ah, there he is,” Brielle sighed, rolling her eyes. “The Loghain we’ve all come to know and love: the grumpy old bastard.”

Loghain laughed harshly, his eyes glinting. “What can I say? The boy brings out the worst in me; I see too much of his brother in him.”

“And not enough of his father, I’m sure,” Brielle added, earning her a glare, and she raised her hands, shaking her head. “Anora is still in charge, remember. I wasn’t about to put Alistair on the throne without her, after he didn’t want it to begin with.”

Loghain was quiet, but she could feel him seething before her. While her chest was still uncomfortable, she was amused by the annoyance that had settled upon Loghain, and she rolled her eyes again, a soft chuckle escaping her lips. As she laughed, his shoulders relaxed, and he rubbed the bridge of his nose again in irritation.

“Let’s get back to camp before the old woman comes for my blood,” he suggested, and Brielle shrugged halfheartedly, preferring her present company to whatever stern talking to she would inevitably get when they returned. Try as she might to hide it, Loghain saw the brief disappointment that flashed across her face, and if he was honest with himself, he felt it too. However, there were bigger things at stake than not being able to spend time together.

“Must we?” she asked, wrinkling her nose. “I don’t have a lot of patience for another argument, and I swear to the Creators that I’ll leave you all to the darkspawn and go back to my clan if I hear yelling one more time.”

“ _ Yes _ .” His tone was stern, but she could see the slight grin that twitched his lips for only a second. “I would not put it past Wynne to have my head on a pole if I stole you for more than a minute. She seems quite fond of glaring daggers at me, no matter the time of day.”

“I think she might have her reasons for that, Loghain, as you know. But, I suppose you’re right.”

“Then let’s get moving, Brielle, before half the forest burns down.” He strode past her, his shoulder brushing against hers as he walked by, and though it felt as though a jolt of energy coursed down her arm at the contact, she pushed it aside, instead clearing her throat as she bent in a dramatic, sweeping bow.

“As you wish,  _ my lord _ ,” she said, slicing through the tension they had built. Loghain froze in his tracks, turning to look at her in incredulity. What was she playing at? The smug grin that spread across her face, the mocking air to her posture overall...was she toying with him? He became disgruntled rather quickly, and a grimace replaced his surprise just as fast when he crossed his arms over his chest. He knew no matter what sort of look he gave her, she would not budge. She was the one who presided over  _ him _ now, but he could not help but to wonder why she enjoyed playing with him so.

“Are we doing this now, then?” he asked, raising a brow. “Don’t you have anything better to do than to mock a disgraced general?”

“A handful of things, I’m sure,” she answered, straightening up again. She strode toward him purposefully, her hand resting on his shoulder when she paused beside him. “But I wonder what sort of wisdom the great Teyrn might have for me before we return. What sort of ridiculous rumor might he have that should no doubt turn me from my companions?”

Loghain did not attempt to hide his defeated expression for a moment, and yet, hearing her triumphant laugh raised his spirits. “I don’t suppose it’s too late to ask you to run me through, is it?” he asked, but her grin told him the answer before she said it.

“You’re stuck with me, Loghain. Sorry to disappoint you.”

“Not even if I asked nicely?”

Brielle considered it briefly, tapping her chin. “Not even with an entire bushel of roses and the finest meal the palace could order.”

Loghain sighed. “It was worth a try then, I suppose. I wonder how fate could be so cruel as to stick me in the employ of a woman who finds her enjoyment in running circles around me, only to poke fun at me with each moment she can find.”

“It’s a part of my charm, Loghain,” she said, her hand slipping from his shoulder. He soon found himself missing the contact, and she continued toward the woods, finding the path she had taken to arrive, and he followed close behind her. “Why do you think the rest of them stay with me?”

“I don’t think you want me to answer that question.”

“You’re probably right,” she said, casting him a backward glance. “For the time being, you’re just going to have to live with it, until the Grey Warden bosses decide what they want to do with you.”

They walked in silence for a few minutes, both lost in their thoughts. It wasn’t until they reached the camp again before it was broken, and they hung back briefly, mentally preparing themselves for Wynne’s ire. It wasn’t until Brielle felt Loghain at her back that she realized how close she was, and when she turned her head, he bowed his head to speak low enough so that only she could hear.

“I suppose I could get used to this.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Surprise chapter, y'all~

The overwhelming odor of blood and ichor all but took their senses the closer they came to Redcliffe, and soon the clash of metal and roar of darkspawn filled the air when they arrived at the village. 

Combat was immediate. The darkspawn anticipated their arrival, and they barely had a second before their blades were drawn, fending off the monsters that ransacked the village. At the head of the fight was Brielle, furiously hacking and slashing at each and every creature that came her way, Peanut fending off the darkspawn that might overwhelm her. Loghain aided her, felling the enemy with precise motions, the speed with which he swung his blade unparalleled by even the best of warriors within her own clan. On more than one occasion, she found herself watching him, even as she fought off hordes of darkspawn on her own, and her distraction often had either he or Peanut coming to her aid, effectively rending a hurlock in half with claw or blade. 

“You’re causing more trouble than we need, Brielle,” Loghain had said, grunting as he ran a darkspawn through as it brought down its blade on his shield. “ _ Focus _ .”

She could have yelled at herself for not paying attention, but the way he fought was distracting. However, even as he rushed to her aid, he missed a genlock running at him from behind, and as quick as a bolt of lighting, she twirled around and under his arm, stabbing the creature in the dead center of its chest, killing it in that single blow. It screeched, falling backward off her blade, and as the rest of the companions cleared the area, she drew back from underneath his arm, wiping the bloody dagger on her pantleg.

“You were saying?”

He grimaced, rolling his eyes, before darting off into the fray again. There was a smirk on Brielle’s lips as she launched in the opposite direction, brandishing her daggers and loosing a war cry as she hurtled into the beasts. Peanut at her heel, she and the mabari tore through a gathering of darkspawn at a breakneck speed; Peanut was a large dog, but still short enough to slip through, unnoticed, and by the time the darkspawn turned their attention on him, Brielle came from their flanks, cutting them down with ease. Her daggers were precise and swift, killing them quickly and cleanly. They were normally dead before they hit the ground, and while she had no qualms against their suffering, the sooner they were silenced, the less likely they could call for aid.

The fight went on like this for an hour, until there was a gap in their ranks. A hurlock managed to escape Brielle’s wrath, and it went running off, likely to be back with reinforcements at a later time. She would, however, take this moment to gather her strength and catch her breath, allowing her companions to do the same. As they all gathered around her at the center of the village, it was Surana who addressed her first, blood dripping from her hairline down the side of her face. The crimson was striking against her dark skin, and Brielle was worried that she was hurt more than she let on, but Surana waved off her concerns as they came, more important issues on her mind.

“I spoke with Redcliffe guards,” she said between deep breaths. She leaned heavily on her staff, weakness obvious in her demeanor, but the determination on her face eased any worry for her Brielle might have had. “There’s another wave of darkspawn coming to attack the village,” she continued. “One will be by the docks, a smaller group since they have only a small space to fit through to get there. Another will be by the castle gates, and the largest horde will be at the heart of the village.”

“So until the village is secure, it’ll be impossible to get to Eamon,” Brielle observed, folding her arms.

“Yes.”

She bit her lip in thought, her eyes darting from person to person. While they did not appear any more injured than Brielle felt, splitting them up among several groups might increase their chances of getting hurt. Of course, they knew what they signed up for, and Brielle had to be willing to take the risks needed for the good of Ferelden, no matter the cost. Her eyes found Surana, and then flashed to Loghain curiously. She had an idea, and Creators willing, her companions would go along with them.

“Having a Grey Warden at the charge of each assault will be the best course of action,” Brielle said slowly, meeting the gaze of each and every companion sternly. She was met by several knowing looks and several angry glares to follow. “We can sense the darkspawn coming, which will help lower the risks of anyone getting hurt too badly.”

She could sense Wynne’s angry glare first; with a sigh, Brielle glanced over to her, and the  _ disapproving mother _ look she had on her face gave her pause. She didn’t need her to speak to know what she was thinking, but before long, there was no way Brielle could avoid the confrontation for much longer. With a sigh, she ran her hand through her hair, giving the elder woman a pointed look.

“I can already see you’re about to protest, Wynne,” she said dully. “Please make it quick, I doubt the darkspawn are too keen on waiting for us to finish our little party before they attack.”

“Yes,” she said, drawing the attention of the group. “I know what you intend to do, and the idea is not a bad one. However, there are some members of this  _ little party _ that do not entirely trust those you claim can lead us.”

Brielle sighed. While Wynne did not have any reason not to trust her, unless Loghain was the line she drew, she had completely forgotten about her suspicion of Surana and her obvious use of blood magic. Up until then, she had been free with her art, and while she had never give anyone reason to doubt her intentions, the mere thought of magic and blood  _ together _ was enough to draw Wynne’s ire. After all, she and Surana had been in the Circle together, where all practice, talk, and even thought of blood magic was strictly forbidden. Brielle remembered Jowan, whom she had freed upon arriving at Redcliffe Castle for the first time, a friend of Surana’s and a blood mage himself. As far as she could tell, he was a perfectly reasonable person, aside from the obvious.

She pinched the bridge of her nose, annoyance flickering across her face. “Oh yes, the Grey Warden’s friends: the scary, evil blood mage and the man who nearly launched Ferelden in a civil war. How could I forget?”

“I am only saying I think you should consider your options when splitting us up, Brielle,” she said gently, but a hint of anger flashed in her eyes.

“Then I suppose those who work best together should fight together, hm?” Brielle continued, eyes flashing. “And if that’s going to be the case, my plan to have a Grey Warden in each of the three groups isn’t going to fly well.”

Brielle had to think quickly, and over the next few minutes, she split their party up into three groups to fight around the village. With Brielle, she took Loghain, which obviously put the rest at ease. He seemed pleased, himself, though also slightly irked that her plan, which would have worked quite well, would not come to fruition. He and Brielle were of the same mind, however, knowing that they worked quite well together, and neither were too heartbroken over the predicament. With them, Brielle took Peanut, much to the mabari’s pleasure, and Morrigan, who seemed to be the least opposed to Loghain’s presence within the group out of everyone.

The second group was led by Surana, who took Leliana, Zevran, and Shale with her. They would be fighting against the bulk near the castle, clearing a path for the rest of the companions to reach the keep. Breaking through the darkspawn’s defenses was crucial, and there were still villagers looking to seek sanctuary from the horde. Surana was a great tactician, despite her years in the Circle, and would get everyone to safety quickly.

Sten, Wynne, and Oghren made up the final group, and though it was smaller than the rest, the horde they would be fighting would be more on par with their strength. They scoured the waterfront along the perimeter of the village, where the fighting was less, but still enough to give two warriors and their healer a good fight. 

“This isn’t going to be easy,” Brielle said when their groups were formed. “It’s going to be difficult as hell to get past all of them unscathed, and even harder still to get to the castle without the darkspawn raining down on us. They do have the higher ground, which means they have the upper hand. Be prepared for anything.”

There was a murmur of ascent throughout the group, and whether or not they agreed with her completely, Brielle knew that each and every one of them were prepared to fight to the death to see this through. She looked each companion in the eye, and they each met Brielle’s in return, a gleam within them that she had not seen before. Pride welled up within her, a pride that she, and they, had come so far; she started her journey as an elf, a woman who was decidedly cast aside for who she was as she started her trek. She fought her way through the wilderness of Ferelden, commanding respect of those who she brought as allies. She sacrificed so much to get where she was, fought so hard to earn the respect of the humans around her, and lost so much near and dear to her heart that she often wondered how she made it so far without losing it completely.

Surfacing from her thoughts, she found her gaze fixed on Loghain’s, who met hers with a ferocity that she only heard about in the tales of his prowess in battle. Tearing her gaze away from his, she wondered if perhaps she had looked at him a bit longer than she intended; her stomach churned fiercely, even as they split into their respective groups. Surely it was because of the impending battle that she felt nervous, but even as she, Peanut, Loghain, and Morrigan made their way to the heart of Redcliffe to greet their opposition, there was a certain fierceness that coursed through her veins as she marched with Loghain by her side.

“It looks like the enemy has already arrived,” he called, drawing his blade in a single, sweeping flourish. 

“You don’t say,” Brielle replied, twirling her blades in her hands, and Peanut barked beside her. “Here I thought Ferelden’s greatest commander didn’t just point out the obvious when he saw fit.”

He glanced at her, but before he could say a word, Morrigan cleared her throat from behind them, her eyes flashing.

“T’would be wise to focus on the task at hand, yes?” she said, nodding toward the horde of darkspawn that were just now catching sight of them. “I am certain there will be plenty of time for you two to have at each other, later.”

Brielle raised a brow, noting the look Morrigan wore, the slight knowing smirk on her lips not lost to the elf. Regardless, she ignored it, nodding toward Loghain, and the pair of them brandished their blades, launching themselves into the fray with Peanut at their heels. The darkspawn, pleased with their arrival, flew toward them, meeting them dead center of the village, in the courtyard in front of the Chantry as they had done time and time before. From behind them, Morrigan launched spell after spell, each hitting with careful precision, allowing Brielle, Loghain, and Peanut to attack when the darkspawn screeched in pain.

The three of them soon split off into different directions after taking on the first wave of darkspawn; Peanut ran off to an area in front of the Chantry and Loghain was in front of the blacksmith, each making good work of their skills. Brielle remained at the center with Morrigan at her back, and she hacked and slashed through countless creatures, soon finding herself covered in copious amounts of blood and ichor. The smell of decay pervaded Brielle’s senses, minorly distracting her when a hurlock and genlock decided to charge her, and she only narrowly avoided getting cut while Morrigan found herself busy with another, smaller group of revolting monsters.

Diving out of the way, the hurlock just missed catching her shoulder with its massive blade, and it snarled, turning on its heel to charge her once again. The genlock stayed behind to guard the hurlock’s back; it was an emissary, and she could see it wielding its particular brand of magic to aid its ally in their assault. Brielle did not have much wiggle room to maneuver. The genlock was going to block off any retreat that might save her, and the hurlock was a monstrous beast coming right for her, a feral expression on its face. Her eyes darted from side to side, gathering her options, and as a barrier went up  _ behind  _ her, keeping her from escape, she knew what she had to do. The hurlock would likely be stronger than her, and there was no doubt it was far bigger, so as it brought down its weapon upon her, it took all her strength to keep it from slicing her arms clean off when she met it with both of her daggers.

The power behind its attack was strong, and she could feel the sweat beading on her brow as it put all of its weight behind its blade. Brielle gritted her teeth, digging her heels into the ground, and she fought to keep her arms from buckling, but it was then that she realized that this was all too familiar. Not a day ago had she been in the same predicament when she sparred Loghain, who was also a good deal stronger than she was, but she had speed and dexterity. She was a rogue, after all, and she specialized in it. 

With a roar, she managed to kick up, landing her foot in the fork of the creature’s legs. She doubted it would do much, but it had the intended effect. Keeping one arm up, still holding one blade against the hurlock’s, she pulled the other back, driving it straight into the creature’s side. It screeched a terrible noise, and pulled back, unfortunately taking her blade with it. However, she did not give herself time to hesitate; though she might only have one blade at the moment, it was enough to finish off the job. She charged at the screaming hurlock, putting all her weight behind her blade as she sunk it into the creature’s chest repeatedly, spraying ichor through the air and all over herself. It fought to get away, but its strength was quickly sapped the more Brielle’s blade found a home in its chest, and soon, it fell to the found in a lifeless heap, a death rattle sputtering in its throat.

Brielle was pleased with her work, but that didn’t mean she was done. Looking up from the mess she made, the genlock hurtled a spell of some sort toward her, and she ducked out of the way, rolling away in a rush. She found herself next to the lifeless corpse, and with a growl, she wrenched her dagger from the hurlock’s side, nose wrinkling at the gore that followed it out. The genlock launched another spell at her, and she felt the heat of the magic graze her face as it missed her by only a hair’s breadth. Without pause, she launched her dagger at the creature, and not a moment later was it looking down at the blade that had suddenly penetrated its breast, the guttural howl echoing in its throat causing the hairs at the back of Brielle’s neck to raise. Still, she persisted, and with a ferocious bellow, she flew toward it, raising her weapon back behind her head, using all her power to slice the genlock’s head clean from it’s shoulders, spraying its blood all around the area.

Her shoulders heaved in exhaustion, but Brielle knew the battle was far from over. Bodies littered the area around her, many of which were missing limbs or heads, or a combination of the two, and the roar of battle still went on around her. The darkspawn in her area were taken care of, and she wiped the blood off of her daggers, sheathing them at her side for the time being. Peanut made quick work of the remaining darkspawn around him, the poor thing covered in copious amounts of blood and grime. Loghain, on the other hand, still had several that surrounded him, and while it appeared that he had no issue with the enemies he was presented, Brielle soon noticed that a shriek stalked him from behind, with intentions to strike.

From her back, she pulled her bow and nocked an arrow with a swiftness that might have broken her weapon, had anyone else attempted as she did. Soon, the arrow was aimed, and from his position, Loghain watched as she seemingly targeted him. Anger briefly flickered across his expression, thinking she had finally decided to be rid of him, but not seconds later, the arrow came whizzing past his head, embedding itself into a darkspawn behind him. He turned in surprise, grunting as beheaded it, and suddenly, an array of arrows came raining down upon the remaining darkspawn, and Brielle soon joined him, finishing off the rest of the darkspawn together.

“I hope you don’t think so little of me that I’d kill you  _ now _ , Loghain,” she called, taking the arrow in her hand and driving it into a genlock’s eye rather than nocking it. She replaced her bow on her back, taking out her daggers, finding herself back to back with him. “I told you, you’re  _ stuck  _ with me.”

“Forgive me for assuming!” he yelled back, driving his blade into the throat of hurlock that charged him. “Perhaps the scandalous rumors of a disgraced teyrn have reached you, after all. Dear Maker, what  _ will _ they say?”

Brielle snorted, though regretted it immediately as her face was splattered with yet more darkspawn blood from her own blades. She hacked and coughed, wiping her face on her sleeve, and she only just managed to dodge the final darkspawn in their area when Loghain brought his blade up and around her, rending the creature in twain across its belly. He blocked only a bit of the blood from hitting Brielle, but at this point, she did not care about how dirty she became; this was war, after all, and coming out clean either meant you didn’t fight, or your soul was leaving your body after being defeated.

“Something infuriating, no doubt,” Brielle said, running her blood-covered hand over her brow, pushing her hair out of her eyes. “But that’s for another time; did we get them all?”

Loghain surveyed the area as Brielle kicked the corpse at her feet, but it wasn’t a second later when they heard a roar tremble the earth, the footfalls of heavy feet rumbling the ground below them. Across the way, an ogre came bursting through one of the buildings on the dockside, having gotten past Sten, Wynne, and Oghren's party. Several arrows pierced its shoulders and back, likely having come across some of Redcliffe's archers, but it was no less enraged than any other of its kind, and it ripped out pieces of wooden fencing as it stomped toward the village center. Another fearsome roar rattled the buildings around them, and debris from the blacksmith clattered to the ground and on the top of Brielle and Loghain's heads, forcing them away. 

“I'm going to take a wild guess and say we  _ haven't _ ,” Loghain said, finally answering her question with a hint of sarcasm. His eyes flashed dangerously, features settled in an angry snarl, and he shrugged his shield from back, positioning it on his arm.

“You don't say,” Brielle growled, her expression identical to Loghain's, daggers raised before her. Between the ogre's legs, she could see Peanut on its other side, hackles raised in a feral growl, his ears plastered flat against his skull. The mabari was ready to attack the thing completely on his own, but when he caught sight of Brielle on the other side, he stayed his paw; he knew that she would likely have a plan and that it would lead them to success.

“What do you think?” Loghain said, already calculating the battlefield for the best course of action. They did not have much time, as the ogre slowly began its charge toward them, and Brielle gripped her daggers tightly, ready for a fight.

“Distract it,” she decided, elbowing him lightly. “Keep it on you and the rest of us will flank.”

His jaw clenched and he nodded curtly, preparing himself for the beating he would likely receive. Brielle turned on her heel, but before she could dart off, she felt a heavy hand fall on her shoulder, and she was surprised to see Loghain on the other end, looking at her with a peculiar expression. Icy eyes bore into hers, and as he looked like he struggled to find the words he wanted to say, he cleared his throat, looking away pointedly. 

“Be careful,” he said, but then added gruffly, as though his comment for her well-being was too soft, “and don't do anything stupid.”

Brielle rolled her eyes, but grinned appreciatively. “Stupid is my middle name. Or maybe it was reckless, I forget.” She paused, her expression softening. “You too.”

His eyes flashed to hers momentarily before he nodded sharply, hand falling from her shoulder as they parted. Brielle had to fight to keep herself from looking back; she had a job to do, and they couldn't afford a distraction when an ogre stood at the center of the village, causing more damage than even the brigade of darkspawn from before had. There was an unsettling feeling in the pit of her stomach, one that she couldn't place, but she brushed it aside. After all, she had taken on a broodmother that had called on hordes of her young to fight them in the Deep Roads, and survived easily enough. A lone ogre should be no problem. 

Morrigan watched them, her eyes narrowed, but now was not the time to dwell. As the ogre bellowed, she felt the energy in the air shimmer around her, enveloping her in a protective shield invisible to another's eye. Her hands burst into flame as she drew forth from her magic while Loghain charged the beast, and Brielle slipped into the shadows on the far side of the courtyard, undetected. She mostly ignored Peanut; Morrigan was never a dog person, but she knew how much the filthy creature meant to her one, dear friend, and therefore, as she felt the flames burst forth, she was careful to only encircle the ogre in a burning pyre.

Brielle watched as the area suddenly burst into blazing inferno, blinding her momentarily. The diversion from Morrigan seemed to work, and as Loghain pulled the ogre's attention, Brielle saw an opening between two pillars of flame. She slipped into the fray, unnoticed when Loghain and Peanut began their assault together, and she could feel the fire lick and sting at her skin as it got uncomfortable close. The inferno was uncontained, but Brielle knew it took a great deal of strength to keep it under control as it was. She saw Morrigan struggle while she continued to fire entropic spells at the creature, and Brielle had to duck out of the way when an enormous arm came swinging from nowhere, threatening to throw her through the air. Loghain growled when a fist came down on his shield, and he winced as the pressure on his shoulder was greater than he anticipated. Still, he managed to shove the ogre's arm aside, swinging his blade upward and slashing the skin of its forearm, a foul smelling ichor splashing down onto the ground below. 

As he moved with sure footing, Peanut pounced into the air, his powerful jaws closing on the ogre's shoulder, razor sharp teeth puncturing its thick skin. It howled in rage and pain as it struggled to reach the mabari, but Peanut stayed just out of its reach, claws digging into its back and sides, leaving long, bloody gashes against its mottled skin. Brielle took her chance; she launched herself at the ogre, her blades flashing dangerously in the fire light as she ran. With careful maneuvering around the enraged creature, avoiding flailing arms and stomping feet, she dove between its legs, daggers hacking against its inner thighs, and she rolled out of the way, just in time to miss a giant foot coming down on her head. With a grunt, she sprung back up, blanching; Peanut had been caught in the ogre's grip and while Loghain drove his blade into the creature's stomach, it howled, throwing the mabari aside. Brielle looked on in horror, hearing Peanut howl in fright, before he landed heavily against the Chantry's front doors. She had to stop herself from going after him, and finish the task at hand.

Brielle at its front and Loghain at its back, they could only being their attack in full, sinking blade after blade into the creature as it howled in rage. Morrigan's spells continued to find their mark at its face, making the fight all that easier for the melee combatants, though the danger of flailing limbs did give them some pause. At one point, the ogre's arm caught Loghain across the face, splitting his lip and knocking him back, the warrior falling prone to its fury, but before it could finish off its job, Brielle had flown across the field to hack her daggers across its arm, inserting herself between the ogre and Loghain. It gave him the time he needed to fight his way to the creature's chest, driving his blade through its sternum and pulling down, opening its torso in a single swipe and spilling its guts atop their heads. 

The ogre roared, but the sound was weak, pained as blood spilled from its chest. It stumbled back, tearing from the ground a part of the fence surrounding the main courtyard, launching it at the Chantry behind it in a panicked haze. It was clear to Brielle that the creature would soon be felled; covered in its bile and gore, she grimaced and ran toward it, pushing off the ground with as much strength as she could muster. The ogre had no idea she was coming. As it whirled around, it was met by two daggers to the face, which sunk into its flesh quickly and efficiently, and the creature screamed a noise so terrible, it grated on the very essence of her nerves, the hairs on the back of her neck raising. It thrashed back and forth, and again, Brielle found herself holding on for dear life, much like she had with the pride demon, but the ogre did not have the strength left in it to cause her harm. It expended its energy in trying to throw her off, and with a bloody gurgle in the back of its throat, the creature toppled backward, landing on its back with a thundering crash.

Brielle hopped off it gracefully before it hit the ground, landing several feet away and breathing heavily. The smell of rotted flesh permeated her senses, and she wiped her bloody face on the last clean part of her sleeve, grimacing as she felt ichor smear across her skin. Her daggers were still in the ogre’s face, but she wasn’t worried about that at the moment. Now, she was tired, sore, and smelly, and she wanted nothing more than to be done with this fight and get to the castle.

Loghain and Morrigan too breathed heavily; Loghain was just as dirty as Brielle was, and his face was rather bruised from his fight with the ogre, but Morrigan was relatively unscathed. Here and there, she appeared to have a scratch or cut, but as she had been able to stay away from the main body of the battle, she avoided the injuries Brielle and Loghain sustained.

Running a hand through her hair, she nodded to each of them as they approached, and they returned her greeting, albeit slightly distracted. Morrigan made time of settling a wave of healing magic over them, which would heal their most minor injuries, while Loghain inspected his shield, his nose wrinkling in distaste at the ugly dent at its center.

“I don’t suppose Redcliffe’s smiths can take this dent out before the next fight?” he growled, speaking more to himself than to either Brielle or Morrigan. The latter merely sneered, turning away to survey the area, making sure it was rid of straggler darkspawn, while the former looked at the shield with a raised brow, tapping her chin in thought.

“Considering we’ll probably have another horde to cut through before we get to the castle? Unlikely.”

Loghain huffed, strapping the shield to his back. “You’re probably right.” He wiped his brow on the back of his hand, grimacing at the ichor that dripped from it, and looked at Brielle with an equally disgusted look. “You’re a disaster.”

“You're not looking too good, yourself,” she sighed with a shrug. “I suppose it comes with the territory.” She felt terribly sticky and hot, and the smell of darkspawn guts was completely nauseating. Her stomach was strong, but even Brielle had a difficult time keeping herself from doubling over, now that the fight had calmed. 

A pained whimper came from the Chantry, and she whirled on her heel, remembering Peanut. She found the mabari struggling to get to his feet, right at the steps, his front paw twisted at an odd angle. Without a second thought, or noticing how the fence the ogre had thrown was wedged into the building right above the dog was dropping debris more and more as time passed, Brielle sprinted to Peanut, sliding to a stop on the ground next to him before he could collapse into a heap on her lap. He wagged his tail weakly, lifting his head so he could lick her face, and Brielle buried her face into his thick neck, feeling for any signs of further injury.

“It's okay, da'len,” she murmured, stroking his blood-covered fur. “I've got you.”

Peanut barked softly, nestling himself against Brielle. As far as she could tell, he had no life threatening injuries, but she still worried for her longest friend and companion. However, as they sat in the stillness, a rather heavy piece of debris fell from above, clipping Brielle's shoulder painfully. With a hiss, she looked up, forced to squint as dust and stone fell in her eyes. It became apparent that part of the Chantry, along with the wooden fencing, was about to come crashing down on top of them. She had the time to run out of there without more harm, but in Peanut's state, he could not run quickly and would likely be killed in the collapse. Brielle wasn't heavily armored, herself, and would probably be injured badly if she stayed, but as she heard the creaking and crumbling above her, she threw herself over the mabari, shielding him from further injury. 

Morrigan first caught sight of Brielle, and she was far from amused at the prospect of losing her dear friend because she was protecting her mangey beast. However, before she could comment on it to Loghain, he launched himself toward the elf and mabari, slinging his shield over his arm. The fence came loose from the Chantry, bringing along large pieces of rubble with it, and Brielle, hearing the metallic clank of armor fast approaching, looked up just to see Loghain throw up his shield, covering both she and Peanut with his body. 

The ground quaked as chunks of stone fell all around them, and Brielle squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the inevitable, painful impact. One arm wrapped tightly against Peanut, whose head was pressed against her frightfully, and the other arm was clutched to tightly to that of Loghain's that had wrapped around her, unrelenting. Her face was flush against his chest, ignoring the ichor that coated his armor, and her heart beat rapidly, waiting for the moment that they would be entombed.

But it never came. As the ground shook, debris fell all around them, but refused to come within a yard of the three on any side. Brielle waited a moment before opening her eyes, but when she did, her mouth fell open in surprise; they were shielded in a spherical dome of crackling blue energy, and any and all rubble that fell upon them was pushed off to the side, cast away by the protective bubble. When she moved, Loghain looked up as well, lowering his shield from over his head, looking at the magic in disdain, but was appreciative nonetheless. A bit away, Morrigan struggled to keep the barrier afloat, already weary from the fighting they had just finished, and the moment the last piece of rock fell, the barrier was released, her shoulders slouching in exhaustion. The moment Loghain ran off to assist Brielle, she knew her magic would be needed, and not a moment too soon. He had no less dropped to her side than the first pieces of rubble came falling, and to erect a barrier as quickly as she had, with enough strength to protect them, took more out of her than she was willing to say. 

“Shit,” Brielle muttered, brushing dust off of her, annoyed when it stuck in the ichor that coated her hair. Loghain moved hesitantly as she straightened, and Peanut groaned, his nose tucking under Brielle's chin. She sighed, finding herself leaning heavily against chest; while part of her reasoned that there was no need to stay there, the contact was comforting, and the protective hand on her shoulder was even more so.

“You alright?” Though his voice was gruff, and wearier than he'd care to admit, there was a certain gentleness to it that he hid beneath layers of stoicism. 

“Sore, but I'm fine,” she said. “Peanut needs to be looked at though; however he landed after that ogre had him did something to his paw.” She paused, before asking softly, “You?”

Loghain glanced at her, quite aware of her closeness, and hurriedly looked away before her eyes could linger on him too long. “I'm fine,” he said stiffly, before shifting himself, rising steadily to his feet. Though he was feeling a bit awkward, he held out his hand for Brielle to take, assisting her as well, and a part of him, buried deep within, was pleased that her hand slipped into his almost instantly. However, he didn't want to tarry too long; there was still the castle itself they had to get to, and there were likely more darkspawn awaiting their arrival. But part of him, a niggling thought in the very back of his mind, did not want to let her go, and feeling her fingers slide through his when she turned to help the mabari to his feet, left a decidedly hollow pit in the center of his chest.

“Good,” she said, looping her arms around Peanut's chest, bracing herself to help lift his massive weight. Brielle was a small woman, and the mabari was taller than her when he stood on his back paws. While she was strong, she was weary, and Peanut was all but dead weight as she hoisted him up.

Loghain watched her struggle, lips pursed, before walking to the dog's other side, wrapping his arms around the creature as Brielle did. Together, they managed to get Peanut on his feet, though his refusal to put weight on his right front paw was cause for alarm. It was covered in darkspawn gore, as Brielle and Loghain were, but it looked twisted and swollen, and altogether painful. 

“He can't fight like this,” Brielle said, running her hand along the top of his head. “He won't even be able to get to the castle without help.”

Loghain was silent, brows knitted. This was a strong dog, and no doubt as intelligent as any other mabari, but to think he let Brielle go anywhere without her for even a moment was ridiculous. He was as loyal a mabari as Loghain had ever met, and Peanut was willing to put his entire life on the line to make sure Brielle was safe and happy.

Clearing her throat, Morrigan approached, leaning heavily against her staff, her expression cross. She was not the least bit amused with their devotion to the dog, and she made no attempt to hide it when she spoke. “T'would not be wise to linger,” she said, eyes flashing. “The darkspawn have not yet been defeated and there will likely be more to take the village if we do not reach the castle soon.” She paused, eyes flickering disdainfully toward the mabari, her nose wrinkled. “I do suggest taking care of your mongrel, and quickly. I do not believe the others will wait for us to storm the castle.”

They were dismissed with a sharp glare, and Morrigan took her leave, inspecting the area closely for any sign of the enemy. Brielle glanced at Loghain, who was watching Peanut, his brow creased. Before she could say anything, however, he bent over, heaving the dog up and over his shoulders with a grunt. Peanut whimpered, but did not protest, and after Brielle made sure both he and Loghain were balanced, they set off together after Morrigan, beginning the slow trek up to the castle.


	9. Chapter 9

Surana and the rest took out the remaining darkspawn with ease, coming out of the fray relatively unscathed. The path upward was cleared as Brielle finished up at the village's heart, and the rest of her companions gathered at the gates to the castle, awaiting their leader. While the hordes were more in numbers than their small company, their strength and skill came in handy when fending off the beasts, and there was little they could do against the Grey Wardens’ ire as they attempted to breach the castle walls. However, Brielle grew weary, and she was thankful when she, Morrigan, and Loghain with Peanut on his shoulders, met up with the rest. The battle was over for now, and they could finally rest and heal.

Surana stood, vigilant, at the castle’s gate, dark eyes watching for Brielle’s approached. Relief overcame her features when they appeared, no worse for wear than she was. “You look like shit,” she commented when they approached, bloody, bruised, and covered in ichor. “And you smell just as bad. What the hell happened?”

Brielle rolled her eyes wearily. “Lots of darkspawn,” she said shortly. “We probably could have used a few more soldiers, but we made the best of it.”

Surana pursed her lips but said nothing, her eyes flickering to Loghain, who stood just behind Brielle, surveying the area with Peanut over his shoulders. Though she was inclined to ask what was going on with the mabari, they had to get to the castle quickly; delaying would only cause more trouble to fall into their laps, and more energy wasted against the darkspawn horde.

Quickly and silently, the entire company trekked to Redcliffe Castle, observing the gore that covered the entirety of the path. The closer they drew, the more the bodies piled up; Brielle had to keep her eyes focused on the gates ahead to keep herself from getting sick, and even then, it wasn’t enough as she felt her stomach churn at the sight. The stench was unbelievably bad, and to think she was able to keep her stomach under control was a feat within itself. Never, had she seen destruction like she did now, and she knew it was only going to get worse from there. The sooner this Blight was over, the better. Brielle was tired of fighting, and ready for a long break.

She did, however, have a suspicion that the Blight was coming to a close. Everything was oddly silent around Ferelden, and rumors of darkspawn leaving areas in masses caught her ear. Whether they returned to the Deep Roads or not, Brielle couldn’t say, but things were getting better as far as she could tell. There was one thing that troubled her, though; the archdemon had yet to appear, and for the Blight to truly be over, the creature had to be defeated. If there was no archdemon, there was no way to end the Blight, and if she couldn’t end the Blight, the darkspawn would continue to ravage the countryside until there was nothing left.

And Brielle could not allow that.

They reached the gates, and the soldiers on the battlements heaved the chains to let Brielle and the rest in. The battle from within looked no better; there were dozens of dead strewn about, mangled in with darkspawn corpses, weapons lodged into crevices that Brielle did not care to see. Soldiers carried bodies away from the main path to be identified when the castle was secure, while others heaved darkspawn into a large pile that only continued to grow. At the foot of the stairs was a guard who rushed to them, looking as haggard as Brielle felt, and twice as panicked. He stopped before her, his hands on his knees as he gasped for breath, and her brows raised in curiosity, wondering what it was he was on about.

“The Arl awaits you within,” he said, collecting himself. He was rather sheepish at his lack of professionalism, but Brielle paid it no mind. “The Grey Warden, Riordan, is with him as well.”

Brielle nodded curtly, and brushed passed him, her entourage of companions following suit. They were all tired, bruised, and worn, and though it might not have been enough, the respite Eamon's estate would give them would be a sight better than pitching their tents in the wilderness again. Regardless, the doors burst open as they approached, another guard ready to receive them and take them into the main hall, where Anora and Eamon no doubt waited. 

Upon entering, they were immediately intercepted by healers, rushing to the aid of the weary warriors. However, as they reached Brielle, she brushed them off, her expression hardening. The healers gave her a pointed look, their eyes flashing; being human, they no doubt had some distaste for her presence, but they hid it well. They couldn’t have hid it entirely, however, and Brielle absolutely saw the slight wrinkles to their noses, and irritation on their expressions, at her dismissal.

“We’ll be fine,” she said, her voice dangerously polite. While anyone else would have mistook it for genuine friendliness, her company could tell immediately that she dared the humans to overlook her. They were wise though, and awaited her next orders. “We’ll come for healing later; the Queen waits for us and I’m sure Riordan has some news for my fellow Wardens and I.” She paused, running a weary hand through her hair. “My dog, however, needs attention. I don’t know how bad the damage is, but his paw has been hurt badly and can’t keep weight on it.”

She looked at Loghain, and he met her with a stiff nod, kneeling beside her. With Brielle’s help, they managed to ease Peanut onto the ground without much trouble, and the dog warily stood on three paws, refusing to set the front left paw on the ground. He whimpered, tail tucked and ears pressed flat against his head as the healers flocked to him. Brielle and Loghain stood aside, allowing them space to work. It was fortunate that they were in Ferelden; she couldn't imagine Orlais putting such care in a war dog, but the again,  _ fuck _ what Orlais thought. Regardless, even though she had no magical ability herself, Brielle could feel crackling waves of energy dance through the air as a mist of mint green magic flowed around Peanut, healing wounds both seen, and unseen. From what she could see, he visibly relaxed, but as she stepped away, Peanut tensed, intelligent eyes never leaving his companion’s back.

Brielle turned her attention to the task at hand, striding briskly to where Anora and Eamon stood. They were both war-ready, jaws clenched and armor donned. Whether or not they had actually seen battle that day was unknown; they appeared relatively well-kept and unscathed, and there were no visible signs of scratches or dents on their armor. She wondered vaguely if it was ceremonial, at least for the time being, and had they fought, they would have been cleaned up relatively quickly due to their status. It was still entirely possible that they had seen the battle of Redcliffe, and even fought the darkspawn as Brielle had. However, as she approached the pair, with Riordan at their side, she quickly saw that neither of them carried with them the weariness that Brielle and her company suffered, and it was more likely that they only saw the battle from within the walls of the castle. 

“Warden.” Anora nodded toward Brielle in greeting, pleased to see that both she and Loghain were still in one piece, though the grime that covered them both from head to toe was worrying. “I am glad to see that you are all still on your feet, despite what the darkspawn might wish.”

Brielle bowed her head, raising her hand to her chest. “They tried their hardest, Your Majesty, but it seems to me that they don't exactly know who they're dealing with.”

“Indeed. Regardless of the state of Redcliffe, however, I am afraid that Warden Riordan brings news from all of Ferelden.”

“Yes,” added Eamon, before Riordan could step forward. Brielle cast him a dubious glance; ever since their dealings in Denerim, she was not as receiving when it came to the Arl. Her mission to gather the armies of Ferelden to aid in the Blight had distracted her from what was to happen with the Ferelden throne, and it wasn’t until they reached the Landsmeet, and she learned of his intentions to shove Anora aside to place Alistair as king, that she realized his true motive. At least Loghain had been obvious with his intentions of the throne. Eamon only had to say he wanted a puppet king for his own intentions to be more obvious than they already were. 

“Redcliffe will always be in your debt, Warden, and you and yours will always be welcome within these walls,” he continued, his features spread in a warm smile, though the warmth all but reached his eyes. She could tell he still stung from Brielle’s differing ideas, and she returned the smile, however stiff and taunting as it was.

Beside her, Loghain made a noise in the back of his throat, and she had to stop herself from elbowing him in front of the Arl. He was about as trusting of Eamon as Eamon was of him, and for good reason. Regardless, the tension between them both was thick, and she caught the glare he aimed at Loghain, though he had been polite enough to keep his ire from Brielle. Derailing his plans had likely put her on his bad side, though he kept it well hidden, but the fact of the matter was that she kept Loghain in her company willingly, and in good company at that. Whatever Eamon thought of this, however, was of no concern to Brielle; Loghain was a Grey Warden, and to break his oath was death. 

“Perhaps,” he added as an afterthought, “not all of your own.”

“Funny enough, I don't find myself heartbroken over that,” Loghain said casually, the lilt of his voice almost mocking. “I don't often keep the company of those who'd remove my daughter from her rightful throne.”

“ _ Father _ ,” Anora said in a warning tone, and Brielle shot him a glance that clearly told him to  _ save it for later.  _ The last thing either of them needed was for Loghain and Eamon to throw hands in the main hall of the castle, and Brielle and Anora both knew that as well as anyone. Loghain, however, was not apologetic. 

“I only speak the truth, Anora,” he said with a shrug. “Whether he takes it to heart or not is not my concern.”

“ _ Loghain,”  _ Brielle hissed, and he glanced at her, noting the warning in her eyes. He was not pleased that she would cut him off from his taunt, but he supposed she did have a point. There was a job to do, and to detract from that would only set them further behind. 

The tension was cut when Riordan cleared his throat, stepping forward from behind the Queen and Arl, drawing the attention of the entire party. Brielle was eager to learn what he knew; if anything, she hoped he brought some news of the darkspawn's course of action, and from there, they could likely formulate a plan of attack and hunt the archdemon, since it had yet to show itself. 

She felt Surana shift beside her. Brielle knew how interested she was in getting her hands on the creature, if only a bit of it, to study the Blight and the demon that presided over the entire darkspawn body. She wanted to learn what it was that caused the Blight, and if there was some way to reverse the effects and keep it from affecting Thedas altogether. However unlikely it would be to do so, she was determined to see it through. Surana had to live in fear enough throughout her life; if there was anything she could do, it was this. 

“I have it on good authority that the darkspawn are moving,” Riordan began, meeting the gazes of each of the Wardens before him. “Reports from all of Thedas tell me that they are moving, and quickly, toward the capital. Toward Denerim.”

He paused, allowing the severity of the statement hang in the air. Brielle bit her lip, her brow creasing, her eyes fixed on Riordan as though bidding him to speak again. He said nothing. It appeared as though he was at a loss for words, his expression twisted into one of both impending doom and sadness, and only the crackling of the fire behind Eamon broke the silence. 

“So what, then?” Surana demanded, dark eyes flashing. She strode toward the senior Warden with purpose, her shoulders squared and jaw set. “Why would the horde suddenly change their path? Why attack Redcliffe if Denerim was their goal?”

“A diversion,” Brielle said softly, drawing the gazes of those around her. Surana turned to look at her, brows knitting together, searching for the answer she already knew. Brielle was silent for a few moments longer, and she too stepped forward, bringing the stink of death nearer to Anora and Eamon. She could see their noses wrinkle, their disapproving gazes sweeping over her as she spread the filth further into the hall. All eyes were fixed on her, this she could feel, but as she approached the roaring fire, she bathed in the orange glow, letting the warmth pass over her. Her back still faced her company, the Queen, the Arl, Riordan, and her hands were clasped behind her, allowing the silence to grow heavy upon them all.

“Bringing us to Redcliffe would distract us from the bigger picture,” she said softly, looking into the fire as though she searched for answers within the spitting flames, but they said nothing. “The four of us are the last active Wardens in Ferelden. Force us away from Denerim by attacking Redcliffe, and that would give them the opportunity to take the capital without too much hassle. Yes, Denerim’s army will be there to defend, but they’ll be unaware as to how large the force is without us preparing them.”

Another silence fell upon the group, and Brielle slowly turned on her heel, her arms now folded across her chest as she looked on at her companions. Perhaps she was playing up the dramatics a bit, as was her way, but at the same time, the seriousness of the situation called for serious words. She met the eyes of each and every one of her friends, those she traveled with for the better part of a year. People she had come to know and cherish, despite the circumstances that forced her to take up the Grey Warden’s mantle. From Morrigan to Sten, to Leliana and Wynne and Zevran and Oghren. To Shale. To Peanut and finally to Loghain, whose icy blue eyes were fixed upon her unwaveringly. There was a pride within them that she had not expected, though his face was as stoney as ever, and she could see the approval his anger masked. Despite herself, she could not help but to allow the smallest smile to grace her countenance, and though it was unseen by the group, the raise to Loghain’s eyebrows told her that he had seen it. Regardless, the moment was broken as his expression flickered away into anger, and he crossed his arms, brows knitting together in thought.

“Darkspawn don't think like that,” Loghain said, and to Brielle’s surprise, there was a murmured agreement around the room. “They're mindless creatures; they couldn't come up with that on their own.”

“No, they wouldn’t,” Brielle agreed, casting her gaze to Riordan. By the look in his eyes, she could tell there was still more to be said, more that he had waited to tell. “Darkspawn  _ are _ mindless, but I think Riordan can give us more insight to that.”

He looked at her in affirmation, the slightest nod of his head not unnoticed. He paused briefly, collecting his thoughts on the matter at hand, and Riordan ran a hand over his dark hair, breathing in sharply. “The archdemon has shown itself at last,” he said, his voice low and serious, and Brielle swore she felt the air in the room grow colder, despite being beside the fire. She heard a sharp hiss escape Anora’s lips, though she could not bring herself to glance at the Queen; she was fixed, unblinkingly, on Riordan.

“It leads the horde to Denerim; I expect they will be at the capital by the week’s end.”

“The week’s end?” Wynne repeated, positively aghast. Brielle had not seen the old woman’s face look so frightened before, even in the face of demons within Kinloch. “We surely cannot reach Denerim in time; the city will be in ruin before we arrive.”

Riordan looked at Wynne, offering a sympathetic smile, though it did nothing to ease her concerns. “I am afraid you are right, dear lady,” he said, his voice wrought with sadness and regret. “Even traveling as fast as we might, we cannot prevent the sacking of the city.”

“Then we must leave now.”

Brielle was surprised when she heard Sten speak, but she understood why. Ideally, the sooner they left, the sooner they could get to Denerim to finish this Blight once and for all, but Brielle’s bones ached, her body protesting even the slightest movement after their battle in the village. She was still covered in darkspawn grime, and most of the party was worse for wear. To start off again the moment they left the hall would leave them worse off than if they stayed.

“No,” Brielle said, ignoring Sten’s unreadable glare. “We need to recuperate, if only for a night. We’ve traveled long and hard for the better part of a year, and it took us a month to get here after a good amount of rest during the Landsmeet.” Loghain shifted uncomfortably, at the mention of it, but said nothing.

“My blacksmiths can fix your armor,” Eamon said, standing shoulder to shoulder with Brielle. “They will work through the night to make sure your things are prepared for the final battle against the darkspawn.”

“I will see that you receive a hot meal,” Anora added, coming to Brielle’s other side, looking at her with a raised brow. “And a bath. We will see that your provisions are refilled and your supplies are restocked. If you’ll excuse me.”

Without another word, Anora dismissed herself, striding purposefully through the hall and out the double doors. Eamon sighed as he watched her leave, scratching his beard in thought, before addressing the company once more.

“I will have my servants show you to your rooms,” he said distractedly. “And hot baths will be drawn for you as well. Rest well, Grey Wardens and friends of Redcliffe; I am afraid there is still a long road ahead of us.” With a final nod, Eamon excused himself, following Anora out the double doors.

“I will be retiring, myself,” Riordan said. “Wardens Mahariel, Surana, and Loghain, if you would, I must speak with the three of you before retiring for the night... _ after _ you’ve cleaned yourselves up a bit.” He looked pointedly at Brielle’s stained clothing, and she shrugged, unperturbed.

“Of course,” she said, joining the rest of her company in the hall again. “Send for us when you are ready.”

Riordan exited the room, likely making his way to his own quarters as the rest of the party stood awkwardly around, awaiting their escort. Neither of them had been in Eamon’s estate for very long, and Brielle had only traveled through it when awakening him from his demon-induced coma. She, Loghain, and Surana were still standing together, one occasionally catching the other two’s eyes, but it was altogether an uncomfortable silence that overtook them. After all, they were still covered in the grime of battle, bloodied, bruised, and tired, and they all they really wanted was a bath and a good night’s rest. As far as Brielle could tell, they would be setting off right away in the morning, and she wanted to take advantage of as much comfort as she could before the journey began.

It wasn’t long before Eamon’s servants appeared, looking nearly as haggard as Brielle felt. She was sure they had seen a bit of the battle on their end; with a quick glance, she could see cuts and bruises marring their exposed skin, and the puffiness of red eyes after hours of crying from fear of the darkspawn attack. She felt for them, truly, and hoped they would soon get the respite they needed. Working after such an affair was never easy, and as their feet dragged, leading them away in pairs, Brielle frowned, hoping they could lay down soon.

Shale shooed the servants away when they approached them; they had no need for sleep, nor comfort, and they were happiest in the solitude away from the rest of the group. Sten and Oghren positioned themselves nearest the door, eager to find their own quarters, and a young elven woman approached them cautiously, her hands wringing before her. After a few hushed words, they followed her silently out, and Oghren’s lecherous gaze swept over her rear as he trailed behind. Brielle growled under her breath, and her fists clenched at her side, but it wasn’t until she felt a hand on her shoulder that she tore her gaze away from him, looking at Loghain instead.

“I’m going to kick his ass,” she hissed, eyes flashing dangerously, as though daring Loghain to stop her. He nodded stiffly, a frown deepening the crease between his brows.

“A sight to behold, I’m sure,” he mused. “And I would be glad to see it, but if we don’t see this archdemon destroyed first, there may not be an ass to kick when you next have the chance.”

She grumbled, but said nothing, folding her arms over her chest as he squeezed her shoulder, letting his hand fall back to his side. Morrigan and Wynne were escorted next, neither looking particularly pleased that they were with one another, but they kept their tongues in check, for the time being. There would be plenty of time to argue later; for now, rest.

When Zevran and Leliana were collected, not moments after Morrigan and Wynne left the room, Surana excused herself to join them, Leliana’s outstretched hand immediately captured by the mage. However, before the servant was able to lead them on, Surana twirled Leliana gracefully around, lifting her into the air when she caught her in her arms, and Leliana laughed, a magical and musical sound that drew all eyes to them. Her hands wrapped into Surana’s hair, and she hunched to press her nose against the elf’s before planting a tender kiss to her lips. Brielle felt a pang of jealousy, if she was honest, but she pushed it aside almost immediately. They deserved this, they deserved each other, and they deserved all the happiness their Maker, or Brielle’s Creators, could give them. Beside her, she could feel Loghain shift, his shoulder brushing lightly against hers, but stiffly, as though uncomfortable by the display. They didn’t notice, however, as Surana set Leliana gently on the ground, and Leliana entangled their arms together, following the servant out.

“They seem...happy,” he said, and there was an odd sort of tone in his voice, one that Brielle could not quite place. Was it sadness? Maybe longing? Whatever it was, there was a hint of a time long since passed that colored his voice into an unwilling melancholy. He had never been free with his emotions, as far as Brielle knew him, and even in the month that they got to know each other, the fact that he let his feelings slip was something that she had not expected.

“They are,” she replied, elbowing him gently, and he looked at her with a reserved expression. It was a moment before she returned his gaze, and she seemed earnest enough in her words. “They’ve both been through a lot in their lives, and I don’t know a pair of people who deserve it more than them.”

“And what about you?”

She had not anticipated the question, and it threw her off if truth be told. She had not thought much about herself since becoming a Warden; while she did think of what she  _ needed _ to do, what she wanted for herself was not necessary when it came to ending the Blight, and she had not thought upon it at all. Even when she saw a trinket she liked in a city shop, she never thought to buy it, just to have some nice things in the middle of a war. No, what she wanted had never been important, and now that she was asked, she didn’t have an answer.

“I’ve done some bad things,” she muttered, looking away. “I’ve poisoned and murdered in cold blood. Nearly defiled a sacred relic to your people. You know how it is.”

Loghain huffed. “You didn’t nearly launch your country into a civil war, if I remember correctly. I believe I have a list, if you’d like to hear it.”

She covered her mouth with her hand, hiding a grin. “That won’t be necessary,” she said, clearing her throat. “I think I have an idea.”

Zevran had not yet followed Surana and Leliana out, and was curiously watching Brielle and Loghain as they spoke, his head tilted in thought. It wasn’t until Brielle caught his eye that he waggled his brows at her, winking cheekily before swaggering out the door, leaving she and Loghain quite alone and rather confused. Even Peanut was nowhere to be found, and she vaguely wondered if the healers had taken him along with them to make sure there was nothing more wrong with him, beyond his paw. She missed him leaning against her side, but there was nothing she could do for the time being, except wait to be reunited again.

“You smell.”

She slowly looked at Loghain again, mock incredulity twisting her features. Her hand settled on her chest as though his words wounded her greatly, and while he knew it was all in jest, Loghain could not help but to roll his eyes, a defeated sigh escaping his lips. A smile threatened to break through her act, and Brielle quickly turned, the back of her hand resting against her brow, a disheartened cry falling from her lips.

“It can't be,” she whined, closing her eyes as though stricken with grief. He blinked at her sudden dramatics, quite a sight different than the Brielle she was, not seconds ago. “How could it? I tried so hard to keep this from happening, if only to appease the great and terrible teyrn! Whatever will he think of me?”

“He thinks you're a nuisance,” he said roughly, though he could not mask the amusement in his voice. “Maybe a pain in the ass. Definitely a hassle.” Brielle looked at him, aghast, and he snorted before adding, “And a friend.”

Brielle's features brightened, and Loghain pulled a long string of what looked like entrails from her hair, nose wrinkled in disgust when he tossed it aside. She became very aware of how grimey and gross she felt, and when she undid her hair tie, the dried blood and gore kept her hair crusted in place.

“Oh yuck,” she sneered, picking at her bangs which were plastered to her skin. Gingerly, she picked at what she could, feeling the pinch as the hair tore away from the skin and hung lifelessly in her face. “That's really gross.”

Loghain chuckled, though it was more akin to blowing air out his long nose as opposed to laughter, and he crossed his arms, shifting his weight from one leg to another. “Make sure to wash your hair more than once,” he said. “You've got all sorts of shit in it.”

She raised her brows, giving him a once-over. “You're one to talk. You look like you've gone grey from the Chantry dust, and you've gotten guts stuck inside your pauldrons, somehow.”

“Well,  _ excuse me _ for coming to your--” He was cut off suddenly when Brielle stood before him, scooping darkspawn gore from the crevice of his pauldrons, just above his shoulders. He was tense, arms now hanging stiffly by his sides, and when he looked down at her, her head was bowed, unaware that his eyes fixed upon her. She was so much shorter than he that she had to stand on her toes to get a better look, and every few seconds, he could hear a soft  _ fwump _ hit the ground as she threw a bit more of the guts at their feet. He was thankful she did not look up at him; he had not been able to tear away his gaze the moment she touched him, and there was a tenderness in his icy eyes that would have likely pushed her away. Still, as her fingers brushed the slime at the nape of his neck, he shivered, biting back a hushed sigh, and his hand flashed to hers, wrapping his fingers delicately around it.

Brielle started, eyes moving to his, pulling her hand back unconsciously. It was only then that she realized how close he was, and she became painfully aware of the heavy thumping of her heart. Even still, her hand was still firmly clasped within Loghain's, his touch far gentler than she would have ever expected of him. She felt her face grew hot, and had it not been for the warm glow of the fire flickering on her skin, the deep blush that quickly enveloped her face would have been revealed. 

“Are you alright?” he asked suddenly, and when Brielle gave him a questioning look, he added, “You're trembling.”

She averted her gaze, and when she pulled away, Loghain let her hand slide smoothly from his. Her arms wrapped around herself, and she looked at her feet, bangs covering her face. “It was...a day,” she said distantly. “I think everything is just catching up to me, that's all.” It was a bold-faced lie, there was no going around it, but she chanced a glance, unsurprised to see him still watching her. He was cautious, as though he did not want to scare her away. His gaze had always been piercing, and his icy blue eyes did nothing to dampen their intensity, but for once, he was not trying to intimidate. Brielle realized this quickly, and her shoulders relaxed; for a woman so headstrong, so quick to give her opinion even when she was not asked, she was at a loss for words. There was not a single thing she could say to ease her own tensions, not when Loghain looked at her like  _ that _ . It was a soft expression, though his customary stoicism had not fallen, and after silence befell them for several minutes, he cleared his throat, squaring his shoulders as though he were about to face the archdemon right then and there. The space between them was still rather close, but even then, it lessened, and Brielle caught herself looking at his eyes, the surprising expression of longing bright and striking. She bit her lip, tilting her head upward so he might better see her face, and she could feel a gentle brush of fingers against her forearm. He was so unbearably close that she felt her chest tightening, and her hands itched to grab him by the collar and shove him against the wall. So close…

“Grey Wardens?” 

Brielle jumped and Loghain's eyes became steely and unkind when his gaze flashed to the servant that had appeared, and Brielle found herself pushing as far away from Loghain as she could without coming off as too suspicious.

“ _ What _ ?” Loghain growled, and the servant shrunk back against the wall, stressed and frightened.

“Loghain,” Brielle murmured gently, drawing his gaze to her. The sound of his name sent a shiver down his spine, but he could not help but to be irritated by the servant's interruption. She refused to meet his eyes, her arms wrapped protectively around her again, fingers fiddling with the cloth of her sleeve. “He's just doing his job, don't be angry at him.”

He knew she was right, but that didn't help sate his anger any. Regardless, he sighed, bowing his head, waiting for the servant to speak again. 

“I-if you could follow me, I'll take you to your rooms.” The servant bowed quickly before scurrying out the doors he came through, and Brielle made to follow, touching Loghain's shoulder gently as she went. His arm burned at the touch, and he met her eyes briefly as she passed. 

“Let's go,” she said. “We need the rest.”


	10. Chapter 10

“What exactly are you doing, Brielle? Eamon trusted us to his estate, and now you’re repaying him by breaking into one of his private rooms?”

Brielle knelt, listening carefully for the clinks she needed to pop open the stubborn door, Surana at her back, keeping a lookout. There were other things she had hoped to do with her spare time than keep watch for Brielle, but at the same time, she was curious as to what sort of trouble she might have to pull her out of. Regardless, Surana crossed her arms, sharp eyes continuously scouring the halls, ears listening for the sound of oncoming guards.

“Eamon has made it abundantly clear that he disapproves of what I did at the Landsmeet,” Brielle said distractedly, holding a pin between her teeth. It was barely two hours since they had arrived at the castle, and she couldn't help but to think about the disapproving gaze she had received upon entering the main hall, like Eamon was her father, disappointed that she chose a different path in her life than what he had planned. It was fortunate, though, that she had the Queen’s favor for sparing Loghain, and there was little Eamon could do without drawing Anora’s ire.

“Not to mention,” Brielle continued, looking at Surana with a pointed glance. “The stories Alistair told me of his upbringing in Redcliffe? The man wasn't exactly the fathering type; he had Alistair shipped off to the Chantry as soon as he could, because his wife was threatened by a child. A _child_! He made him sleep with the dogs. What the fuck.”

Surana grunted. “That still doesn’t explain  _ why _ you’re breaking into a private room,” she said. “Are you trying to get revenge for Alistair? Why?”

“Have you seen the dust on this handle? It hasn’t been touched in ages.”

“Your point?”

Brielle sighed, pausing her task to look at Surana wearily. “My point is that Eamon isn't the high and mighty man he claims to be. He was far more distant than I’ve ever seen him after I arranged to have both Alistair and Anora on the throne. Alistair isn't nobility; he wouldn't know what to do, and that would have given Eamon the chance to step up as a mentor and sway things his way.”

“He didn't like it when you spared Loghain either,” Surana added. “I remember the look he had when you decided to conscript him.”

“He hasn't trusted me since,” Brielle replied gruffly, pressing her ear to the door and listening for the lock. “I'm sure he regrets allying himself with me, but I'll be damned if I don't make sure he  _ really _ regrets it.”

“If you really wanted to make him regret it, you could have lied about the Urn, you know? Left him in a coma and let Teagan handle everything.”

“I didn't entirely know his character then, Hela, otherwise I would have. Teagan seems decent enough, but I don't know that Isolde would have let that happen.” Rolling her eyes, she wasn't sure whether she liked Eamon or Isolde more, but the fact of the matter was that she’d rather not deal with either of them. Teagan, she liked well enough, and though they had only spoken briefly on a few occasions, too taken with their work to have a nice chat, he seemed sincere. Either way, shemlen were becoming more of a bane on her existence than she cared to think about.

With a click, Brielle grinned, and the door burst inward, revealing unto her the prize. Stuffing her tools back into their pouch, she bolted into the room, pulling Surana along with her. The mage huffed, closing the door behind them while Brielle scanned the shelves and trunks that lined the otherwise bare walls. Her hand slid over aged wood, a thick layer of dust lining her fingertips. It was likely that this room hadn't been touched in years, and whatever treasures within were long forgotten. Brielle took no time in snooping; she quickly dropped to her knees at the nearest chest, which opened for her easily, already unlocked. Within were old, dusty documents of little relevance, aged parchment that threatened to crumble under her touch. Gingerly, she picked up a scroll, the seal unbroken and the parchment yellowed with age. From over her shoulder, Surana looked at the document with interest; they recognized the seal immediately as a symbol issued by the Wardens, and soon she knelt beside Brielle, who looked at her with furrowed brows.

“What would a letter from the Wardens be doing here?” she asked quietly. “I doubt Eamon really had dealings with them before the Blight, and by the look of this parchment, it’s old.”

“Why don’t we find out?” Surana abandoned all hesitation, far more interested in the contents within than getting caught. Brielle thumbed the seal gingerly, breaking the crimson wax, and she watched it crumble onto her lap, a dusty momento of words long since passed. Carefully, she unfurled the note, hearing it crack threateningly as she smoothed it out on the floor in front of she and Surana. Despite its age, it seemed relatively well-kept, and soon enough, Brielle and Surana were reading the note scrawled in an untidy hand, surprise crossing their faces.

“Hold on,” Brielle said, picking up the letter. She scanned it not once or twice, but three more times, processing the words before handing it off to Surana, who did the same not seconds later. A heavy silence hung in the air between them when she finished reading, and she set it down on the stone floor again, neither daring to look at each other.

“So,” Brielle began hesitantly, after a long moment of silence. “Alistair’s mother is a Grey Warden...and an elven mage at that.”

“And he has no idea,” Surana added, running a hand over her hair. “I suppose keeping this a secret would make him a more viable heir to the throne of Ferelden then.”

Brielle nodded. “Elf blooded or full elf, it doesn’t matter. For the people to find this out, they’d throw him from the throne, Theirin blood or not.”

There was another pause, and Brielle quickly rolled the parchment back up, tucking it into her shirt. Surana, however, gave her an odd look, staring pointedly at the letter Brielle had just hidden, and the latter shrugged offhandedly, as though it were nothing more than a scribbled reminder.

“I’m not going to tell him,” she said softly, and her voice broke slightly when she pointedly avoided Surana’s gaze. Brielle busied herself with the chest again, digging within the loose leaves of paper to see what other hidden secrets she might find, but she could feel a pair of dark eyes boring into her back, urging her to continue speaking. 

“Even if he’d talk to me again, I wouldn’t tell him, not for a long while, anyway,” she continued, fingers curling around several larger pieces of parchment. They felt thick, heavy, and if she wasn’t mistaken, Brielle though she might have found a few more maps for the taking.

“I’m sure he’ll come around sometime,” Surana said gently. Brielle did not look at her, nor made any sound to suggest she was listening. Regardless, the mage continued. “Alistair is...how do I put it?”

“Brash? Stubborn?”

“The same could be said of you, Brielle,” Surana said, raising a brow. “He’s not had the best lot in life, and this man, Duncan, must have been one of the better parts of it.”

Brielle sighed, bowing her head. “Hela,” she said slowly, frowning. “You were in the damn  _ Circle _ .”

“Don’t remind me. What I’m trying to say is people handle situations differently, and their backgrounds shape who they are as a person. Alistair didn’t have much of a family life; he deflects with humor and the death of the only person to treat him with any respect hit him hard. Allowing Loghain to live after that was probably a stab in the gut to him, the ultimate betrayal by someone he thought was his best friend.”

That struck a nerve with Brielle. With a huff, she rose to her feet and slammed the lid of the chest shut, the handful of maps she found tucked neatly under her arm. “You don’t think I considered that, Hela?” she growled, eyes flashing. “You even said having Loghain around was a good idea for the future of the Grey Wardens. Sometimes I still wonder if I did the right thing; it cost me Alistair’s friendship!”

Surana rubbed her chin in thought, eyeing Brielle. “What do your thoughts tell you now? You say you doubt your decision, but something tells me otherwise.”

“They’re telling me…” She paused, biting her lip, and an image of Loghain seemed to swim before her eyes. At first there was anger, but that wasn't entirely fair, not to him; when she looked past it, she felt relief, thankfulness. He was a great asset to their small group, and his skills with the blade were unparalleled. His experience as a general proved useful as well, and Brielle was glad to have him alongside her, despite their past history. She could have left it at that, but the feelings she buried were pushing their way to the front, and she found herself thinking of him with fondness, warmth. They meshed well together, from their combat techniques to their personalities, and while they were both stubborn at times, and often argued about silly things, she always managed to draw a smile from his otherwise stoic demeanor.

The mere thought of it made her heart skip a beat, and her hand clenched into a fist, knuckles going pale. No, no this couldn’t be it. Friendship came in all sorts of varieties, and this wasn’t any different. They got along well, that was all, and though they shared long nights together, keeping watch when the nightmares didn’t let them sleep, nothing could be said of that. Even still, Brielle recalled nights around the campfire, when the Ferelden weather was chillier than usual, the nights when she found herself unconsciously sliding closer to Loghain. Whether it was for warmth or comfort, she hadn’t been sure then, but now it was so obviously clear that being near him comforted her more than she realized. There were emotions she had not felt since Tamlen’s death, emotions that suddenly became quite apparent as they burst at the seams, and realization struck her with a mighty blow. Brielle suddenly feared her own thoughts, her own feelings; while they were not new by any means, she recognized them from a time long since passed, from the days of her youth in the clan. Could she possibly…?

“He's….he's good,” she finally said, albeit very awkwardly, and Brielle strode to the door, her hand on the latch, wanting to desperately escape the situation. Her stomach knotted uncomfortably, and the racing of her heart was annoying, at best. Even then, she could not force him out of her head, and it was not long before she realized how often he had been in her mind, in her thoughts. Brielle did not have any answers that she was willing to admit, and she was certain that whatever she said, Surana would see right through. 

“ _ Good _ ?” Before she could undo the latch, Surana spoke again, and Brielle's shoulders stiffened. Her fist tightened on the door, nails digging painfully into the palm of her hand, and she slowly glanced at her from over her shoulder, dreading what she might see. Surana continued to sit, sprawled out on the floor casually, but there was no mistaking the knowing look on her face as she gazed at Brielle. She already knew what her friend was discovering for herself. 

“Yeah...good.”

Surana said nothing as Brielle pushed open the door, leaving in an embarrassed rush. Her face felt hot, and her entire body was quite uncomfortable with the situation altogether. She kept herself guarded since Tamlen's disappearance, and after her Joining, it took ages for even Alistair to climb over her defenses. The thought of even opening herself to another was inconceivable, and though she was fine with a quick fuck, which Zevran was all too willing to offer, her heart was strictly off limits. But now? Now, she was not so sure, if the tightness in her chest was anything to go by.

She stopped at her room, slipping inside briefly. Brielle had no idea why she had these maps, nor what she was going to do with them, but she had them now, and had to figure it out, she supposed. Her pack laid on the floor next to her bed, and she remembered that there were several more that gathered dust, weather-worn and wrinkled. Why she had them, she did not know, but she spread the three maps, along with the two she had acquired, out across her bed, folding her arms and eyeing them inquisitively.

Try as she might to ignore the thought niggling in the back of her mind, there was one person she thought might like these, though after her conversation with Surana, she wasn't sure that it was wise to do so. Regardless of her thoughts, however, she rolled each of the five maps up neatly, tucking them under her arm and leaving her room without a second thought. Her feet led her where her mind was not entirely sure she wanted to go, but the closer she came to Loghain’s room, the more at ease she came to be. Their conversation from earlier was still very strong in her thoughts, and just thinking about it had her stomach clenching uncomfortably. Regardless, Brielle could not be deterred, and not moments later, she found herself outside his door, shuffling the maps beneath her arms, knocking heavily. 

“I'm not here to entertain the friends of Eamon,” Loghain called from within, his voice an angered growl. “Find your fun somewhere else.”

“I swear to the Creators, Loghain,” Brielle warned. “I'll break down the goddamn door. Don't try me.”

Not a second later, she heard two heavy thuds as Loghain's feet hit the floor, and a moment after that, the door swung inward. He leaned heavily against the frame, looking wearier than Brielle had yet seen him, and he glanced skeptically at the rolled parchment beneath her arm.

“I have every reason to believe that you would break down my door,” he chuckled. “It remains to be seen whether or not I  _ want _ to try you.”

Brielle raised a brow, shouldering her way past Loghain, a wry grin spread across her face. “As tempting as that sounds,” she said, dumping her load onto the four-poster bed, “it might not be wise to test the limits of Eamon's, erm,  _ hospitality _ .”

She heard the door shut with a quick  _ snap _ , and the latch of several locks quickly followed. “I suppose you're right,” he sighed defeatedly, running a hand through dark hair. Loghain had definitely taken his time when offered a bath, and when he approached Brielle, the smell of darkspawn filth had been completely replaced with the pleasant musky aroma she'd become quite fond of. Briefly, their exchange from hours earlier flashed across her mind, especially when his shoulder brushed against hers when he approached, and she felt like she had been zapped the moment they touched. They fell into a comfortable silence, however, bumping their arms against one another, until Loghain looked down at his bed, brow furrowing at the clutter that lay where he once did. 

“What's all this?” he asked, reaching for the rolled parchment nearest him. It looked the neatest of the four rolls, and carefully, he unfurled the map, piercing eyes sweeping across its contents. “A map?”

“Several maps,” Brielle corrected, taking a peek at the one in his hands. “That came from Eamon's locked room down the hall.”

“So you stole it?” 

She shrugged nonchalantly. “If I'm being completely honest, yes. But, that room was so laden in dust, I don't think he even knew it was there. Besides.” She paused, resting a hand on his arm as she stood on her toes for a better look, and she hid a smile when she felt him move into the touch, whether knowingly or not. “That's just a botanist's map; I doubt he'd have much use for it.”

Loghain scanned it, glancing at Brielle for only a moment, quite aware of how close she actually was. Her hand was gentle on his arm, her aroma light and enticing, and her weight against him had feelings rising within him that he had not felt for some time. Even still, it lasted only a moment and she slid away, her hand falling slowly to her side, the ghost of her touch still burning on his arm.

“You never know,” he said simply, clearing his throat as he brushed the maps to the side, sinking into his bed once again. “Maybe I have a sudden, keen interest in the plants of Ferelden. Gardening might be a useful tool once this is all over with.”

Brielle snorted, sinking onto the bed beside him, picking up the still unseen maps, handing two of them to Loghain. She kept the other two on her lap, watching him as he unfurled the first, the weathered parchment crackling in protest as he spilled its contents.

“The Imperium, eh?” he murmured, more to himself than to Brielle, and rolled it back up, setting it to the side. “Where did you find that?”

“In Denerim, somewhere,” she said. “I’ve had it for so long, I don’t exactly remember, but if you can find some use for it, it’s yours.”

“It could be good for tactical necessities,” he said offhandedly. “The armies--” He paused, cutting himself short. It became quite obvious that he was now realizing he would not be commanding Ferelden’s armies anymore, and a frown creased his brow. Brielle sensed the disappointment, and she handed him one of the maps in her hand, distracting him from his thoughts.

“It might be useful for the Wardens,” she said encouragingly. “You never know.”

Loghain raised a brow, but said nothing, taking the map from Brielle’s hand. He shifted beside her, taking his time to unfurl the next map, and she sidled up next to him, bumping her arm against his. He glanced at her briefly, unable to hide a small grin, until he looked at the map in his hands, eyes widening.

“Where did you find this?” he asked, and Brielle leaned over him, taking a look at the contents within.

“It was down the hall, in the same room as the botanist map,” she replied. The map looked like a standard map of Ferelden. All the settlements were there, exactly like her own map. This one looked  _ old _ however, and very worn. It wasn’t until she looked harder that she realized some of the names were not the same as hers. “Why, what’s wrong with it?”

“This is a map of Ferelden,” he murmured, running his fingers over the aged parchment. Brielle looked at his face, seeing a flurry of emotions contort his expression, the final being disgust. “A map of Ferelden as it was occupied by Orlais, years ago.” He paused, looking back at her. “Most of these were destroyed, and you said Eamon had it?”

Brielle nodded. “Is that an issue?”

“With Eamon, it’s always an issue,” he snapped, and Brielle raised a brow, frowning. “But I suppose in this case, no. Maybe.” He seemed thoughtful, and returned his gaze back to the map, tracing lines over its face, recounting memories of a time long since passed. Brielle watched in silence and interest, but made no motion to ask him questions. She heard a great deal about the war, the stories told in minstrel’s tales, or passed back and forth in a tavern, each retelling more extravagant than the next. However, she hadn’t heard the whole thing from the source, and she knew Loghain was the last man alive that could truly tell it like it was.

“West Hill,” he said, pointing at an area in the northern part of the map. “West Hill was the biggest loss to our forces that we had yet seen. Ambushed by Orlesian bastards.” The bitterness was evident in his voice, and his features were twisted into something between rage and regret. 

Brielle didn’t know what to say. There were clearly things that haunted him from the war, but she had not been there, she did not know what happened from his point of view. She watched him steadily, noticing the hand that did not hold the map balling into a fist on his knee. Instinctively, though she might have called it recklessly, she slid her hand to his, wiggling her fingers into his palm and relaxing the tension he quickly built. She glanced at his face, seeing the surprise suddenly cross his features at her touch, but he opened his hand willingly, allowing her fingers to slide between his. 

Silence hung between them for a good while, neither of them looking at one another, their gazes fixed on their entangled hands. Brielle rested her head against his shoulder, the beat of her heart uncomfortably fast in her chest. Loghain remained still, his hair falling into his face, hiding it from view. The comforts of closeness were not afforded to him anymore, and in truth, it never felt quite allowed. He was a stoic man, reserved and unwilling to let his feelings run rampant, and it was a problem even in his own friendships. Yet this woman, this Dalish Warden, had somehow managed to wiggle her way through his defenses, not a month after they were sworn enemies. Even she had guarded her heart carefully, against him and against everyone, but she still, somehow, found comfort in who he was.

He ran his thumb over the back of her hand. Her skin was soft and smooth, and her warmth was inviting, her weight on his shoulder a peace he had not known for a long time. Loghain chanced a glance at Brielle, starting when he was met with a pair of bright, blue eyes. They looked at him curiously, shining in the dim light of his room, but the expression she wore was unreadable.

Though her heart raced, Brielle felt unusually calm. Perhaps it was because Loghain looked at her with a mixture of discomfort, confusion, and awe that she kept her head level, but she would take it as it was. She felt vulnerable, but safe, and she almost laughed at the thought. After all, there had been little time between she and Loghain trying to kill each other and now, and logic would tell her that what she was doing was foolish, had Wynne not already done it time and time again. Regardless, Brielle straightened up, her head tilted as she met his eyes steadily, and though he kept her gaze without reservation, there was doubt on his features and a slight furrow on his brow.

“I tried to kill you, you know,” he said, as though his words would serve as a buffer between them. 

Brielle pursed her lips, raising a brow. “I nearly did the same, if you don’t remember, or so I need to remind you?”

He opened his mouth to deflect, but shook his head, thinking better of it. Slowly, he returned his gaze to the map, eyes sweeping over the crinkled parchment, and Brielle followed his gaze, looking at the map in turn. A heavy silence fell between them, welcome and comfortable, and for several minutes, they stared blankly at nothing. Their hands were still interlocked, though they thought nothing of it, and after a moment more, Loghain sighed, shifting back to lean against the pillows as he had before.

Brielle let her fingers slide from his, and she began rolling up the forgotten map, glancing at Loghain as she did so. He watched her curiously, a slight frown marring his features, but she wasn’t bothered; it wasn’t often that he  _ didn’t _ look at someone with the same stony expression, so she didn’t take it personally.

“So you found some maps in Eamon’s storage,” he began slowly, scratching his jaw absentmindedly. “And your first thought was  _ ‘I should bring these to Loghain? _ ’”

Brielle shrugged. “I can take them back if you don’t like them,” she said simply. “But yes, I suppose it was.” When he raised a brow, prying for a further response, she did not give him the satisfaction of an answer, rolling her eyes. 

“I suppose I should be flattered, then,” he huffed, though he could not mask the amusement in his voice. Still, he watched her, searching her face as though looking for an answer, and as soon as she finished rolling the final map, she leaned back, looking at him again.

“You  _ should _ ,” she impressed. “I don’t like you shemlen. You’ve given me nothing but trouble since I left the clan.” She paused, brows knitting together. “Actually, since before  _ that _ . It was humans that led me to the cave where I was tainted, Loghain. I haven’t felt peace, I haven’t felt  _ comfort _ , since then.”

He could see that she was getting riled. Her cheeks flushed dark red, and a hurt appeared within her blue eyes that he couldn’t bare to see. There was only a number of times Loghain had witnessed her get upset like this, and it was usually a far bit away from the camp, away from eavesdropping ears. Even then, she was still hesitant about getting her own pain out in the air, least of all with  _ him _ . Perhaps it was time to turn things around.

“Then talk about something that  _ gives _ you comfort,” he finally said, drawing her questioning gaze. “Your clan clearly means the world to you. Your life before all of... _ this _ . Why don’t you talk about that?”

She was suspicious at first, but it soon melted away when she saw the encouragement in his eyes. Brielle folded her hands together, thumbs running against one another as she thought long and hard about where she wanted to start.

“Where to begin?” she finally said, her voice a croak that masked the pain that threatened to break through. “The clan was my  _ life _ , and it’s still a part of who I am. It always will be.”

“What about it, though?” Loghain pressed. He was uncertain as to how hard he should push, but to bring out a smile of fondness, rather than tears of pain? He would go far if he needed to. “What about your clan gives you peace?”

Brielle was silent for another moment. “The halla,” she finally said, a sort of dreamy expression settling on her face. It was unlike anything Loghain had yet seen of her, and if he was true to himself, he could have sworn she had given him the same expression not long before. Regardless, he pushed the hopes of a disgraced teyrn aside, nodding for her to continue when she looked at him again.

“The halla?”

“Yes,” she said, taking a deep breath. “The halla are the most revered of all our gods’ creations, Loghain. We don’t use them as beasts of labor, like you would a horse or a cow, but companions and equals.” A grin curved her lips when she saw that he did not quite follow, and she shook her head with a roll of her eyes. “Each clan varies in their ways with the halla, but they help us move our aravels from one place to the next. As we care for them, they care for us.”

Her spirits were lifted, if only a little bit, and Brielle perked up, pushing the maps aside and bringing both legs onto the bed, sitting cross-legged before Loghain. She scooted toward him, as though she was preparing to tell a long-winded tale of great heroes and fantastic journeys, and though she only spoke of the creatures she loved so, the way Loghain paid attention, it could have been that she spoke the secrets of the world.

“I was a hunter in the clan,” she continued animatedly, “but our halla keeper, Maren, often said that I could become her apprentice if I found hunting wasn’t my calling. I was with her, every day, caring for the halla like she did. If the clan didn’t know any better, I was already a halla keeper. I already cared for the sick, and more than once I helped a mother birth her fawns. Even from a young age, I was around them, and they were around me.”

Brielle smiled, and it was infectious enough to move even Loghain’s stony expression. Though he did not quite match hers, a grin did lift the corners of his mouth slightly, and he shifted again, half laying in a comfortable position. Brielle took it as an invitation to sit beside him at the head of the bed, and she stole one of the pillows he leaned against, holding it tightly in her arms.

“So halla, then?” Loghain asked. “What about them struck you?”

“Have you seen a halla before, Loghain?”

He pondered her question before answering with a slight shrug. “Not for a long while,” he admitted. “And those I have, it was quickly, likely in passing between battles or, Maker forbid,  _ diplomatic  _ adventures.” The disgust with which he rolled his eyes pulled a snort from Brielle, and she leaned back, averting her gaze from Loghain as she searched the ceiling for more memories.

“Halla are beautiful creatures, Loghain,” she continued wistfully. “Majestic, graceful, intelligent. Even your finest warhorses can’t compare. Our goddess, Ghilan’nain, is the goddess of halla, the only creature known to have a deity to guide them.” She looked at Loghain again, touching the markings on her face. “The vallaslin I wear, they belong to Ghilan’nain. It seemed fitting that I got them.”

“Vallaslin?”

She gave him a flat look, forgetting that he was human, and the elves he had been around most were from the city. “Blood writing, they’re sometimes called. It’s sacred to the Dalish, so I won’t go too much into it, but we receive them when we come of age. I chose the vallaslin of Ghilan’nain of the halla, rather than Andruil, of the hunt.”

“I see.” Loghain did not press the subject further, and though he would have liked to know more, he was suddenly aware at how close Brielle became as she spoke. She hadn’t noticed it herself, too taken with the halla to really see anything beyond the majestic creatures, and even now as they stopped talking, she hadn’t felt him so near. 

“Loghain?” 

Hearing his name barely pulled him out of the stupor he found himself in as he watched her speak, watched her glow. By the Maker, she was so close; how long had it been since he had allowed anyone so near to him? Not since Celia died, he was certain, but Brielle was always there, inches away. Or perhaps it was wishful thinking. Maker, he didn’t know, all he knew is that his hand seemed to move of its own accord as it brushed away locks of dark brown hair, tucking it behind her sharp ear so that he could better see her face.

Brielle’s eyes widened at the touch, but she did not flinch away. The way he looked at her sent a shiver down her spine, and she found herself leaning toward him when his fingers brushed a line against her cheek. She bit her lip nervously, her eyes lost in pools of icy blue, and it was then that she allowed her fingers to brush along his jawline, craving his touch like she never had before.

“Loghain,” she said, her voice trembling. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

Really, there was nothing she could say, because slowly, painfully slowly, did they draw nearer to each other, and she could have sworn she saw his eyes flicker to her lips. He was so close, she could smell his deep, musky aroma and feel the warmth that radiated from his person. Close enough that she could have brushed her nose against his, had she wished to.

And she did wish.

However, a knock on the door had them rearing away from each other almost immediately, withdrawing all contact from one another, and Brielle heard a familiar voice on the other side, calling her name.

“ _ Brielle! _ I know you’re in there!”


	11. Chapter 11

Loghain growled when Brielle threw herself from the bed, scurrying around the edge before throwing open the locked door. Surana stood, looking worn, but admittedly a lot better than before, her sharp eyes narrowed when they fell upon Brielle’s blushing face. They glanced to the bed, from where Loghain slowly pulled on a pair of boots before meeting her eyes, to the pile of maps at its edge. She raised a brow when she looked back at Brielle, but decided against any questions, at least for the time being; there were other things that needed tending to.

“Riordan’s ready for us,” she said curtly. “I’ll let you two,  _ ahem _ , gather yourselves.”

Brielle nodded, running her hands through her hair, before glancing back at Loghain, motioning for him to follow. He nodded, rising slowly to his feet, and fell in line behind Brielle, who allowed herself to be led by Surana down the hall, trying to match her brisk pace. The three of them were silent, a certain awkwardness hanging between them. Brielle knew that Surana had to have known what just happened, if not the details but the general idea. She was always perceptive of that sort of thing, and while she spared Brielle the questions for her sake, she was sure that Surana did not want to know the details, either. After all, she only tolerated Loghain so long as he was tolerable, and he was most tolerable when Brielle was near.

“Took him long enough, didn’t it?” Loghain huffed grumpily as they rounded a corner, at the end of the hall, a single door. “Couldn’t have picked a better time.”

Brielle hid a smile when Surana looked back at him, raising a brow. “He had Warden things he needed to take care of, Loghain. You can’t fault him for that.”

He stared flatly at her and then nodded, saying nothing more, but Brielle caught his eye just in time for her to see him glance at her when he thought she might not be watching. He shrugged, as though to say  _ He’s not the only one. _

Three times, Surana knocked on the door, and then the trio waited on in silence for Riordan to let them in. Brielle paced slowly as Surana folded her arms, and Loghain propped himself against the wall lazily, his expression as stony as ever. 

“More waiting then.”

Surana shot a glare Loghain when he spoke again, and she sighed, shoulders slouching. “He was a bit distracted when we spoke. I’m sure there’s a reason.”

Loghain huffed but said nothing more, accepting her answer for what it was. Brielle stopped pacing, her ears twitching at the noise coming from within the room, and after another moment, the sound of several locks being unlatched met their ears.

The door swung open and Riordan, looking rather haggard and still in his Warden uniform, appeared on the other side, his expression apologetic. Brielle took the lead in entering the room when he stood aside, and as they filed within, she noticed an open bottle of brandy, as well as several empty glasses, sitting on a writing desk to the left. The fire was roaring, and Brielle was thankful for its warmth; Ferelden was always a tad cold for her, and for once, she wasn’t bundled in copious amounts of fur to protect her from the biting weather. 

Soon, the three of them made themselves comfortable by the fireside, Brielle in the middle and Surana and Loghain flanking her on either side, and Riordan poured himself a glass of brandy, looking back to offer it to the rest, as well. While Surana declined, both Brielle and Loghain happily took a glass, and they drank in silence before Riordan finally broke it.

“As you know, the archdemon has finally made itself known,” he said, downing the last bit of brandy with a single swig. He cleared his throat, setting his glass aside. “It leads its hordes to Denerim as we speak, and a good part of the city may be destroyed before we can reach the gates.”

A silence hung about them, interrupted only by the crackling of the fire. When it became apparent that they weren’t going to say a word, Riordan continued. “It is there that we will make our final stand against the creature, once and for all, and end this Blight before it can truly begin.”

“Sounds simple enough,” Brielle said dully, swirling the contents of her glass. “Kill the archdemon, save the day, go home and celebrate.”

Riordan gave her an odd look. “Surely you know there is more to it than just  _ killing _ it, Warden Mahariel. Do you not wonder why only a Grey Warden can kill such a creature?”

Her brows furrowed, and she glanced at both Surana and Loghain, who each met her gaze with a shrug of their own. “None of use got the  _ formal _ Grey Warden training, Riordan,” Brielle answered. “Surana and Loghain both underwent the Joining with you, and I did right before the battle of Ostagar. There hasn’t been time to learn everything.”

Riordan’s face paled, and he sighed, pouring himself another drink. Brielle did not like the look of it, and promptly took a sip of her own. When his glass was full, he shot it down once more, setting it aside when he was sure it was empty.

“Only a Grey Warden can kill an archdemon,” he began slowly, looking each Warden in the eye. “Because of the taint within us, when a Warden makes the killing blow, the creature’s soul, so to speak, searches for the next darkspawn host, so that it may be reborn.”

“So you’re saying,” Surana said, her eyes flashing, “that the archdemon seeks out  _ our _ bodies to be reborn. And that  _ we _ ….” She trailed off, her features aghast.

“Yes. We must die so that the archdemon is destroyed.”

A heavy silence hung upon the room, each Warden at a loss for words. Brielle’s mind raced in a panic; why had no one told her? Not Duncan or Alistair or anyone? Surely someone had to have known that she would eventually have to meet this fate, but to have is sprung upon her suddenly, to be acted on within a month’s time? It didn’t seem fair, but of course, that was her lot in life.

“So one of us dies, then?” she asked stiffly, and Riordan nodded, turning his gaze to Brielle.

“Yes. I am the Senior Warden of this order at the moment, and I will take on the responsibility of ending my life to save Ferelden.”  
“And if you don’t succeed?” Surana added sharply. She did not seem at all pleased by the predicament at hand, and Brielle couldn’t blame her. She felt as though she had been shot in the face by news that could have been told to her the moment she Joined, yet it had been kept from her. Taking a breath she glanced at Loghain; there seemed to be no difference to his expression that she could see, but sensing her gaze, he met it, a sadness flickering in his for a brief moment, before it melted away into a steeled resolve.

Brielle turned away, her brows knitting together, awaiting Riordan’s answer. She had a feeling they didn’t need to be told what would happen next, yet Brielle wanted to hear it for herself before jumping to conclusions.

“One of  _ you _ will have to make the sacrifice.”

There it was. Surana grimaced and Loghain stiffened, and Brielle couldn’t wrap her head around the thought. Clearly, there was only one answer; should Riordan not succeed in slaying the archdemon, she would take the task upon herself. If it meant ending her life to save Ferelden, and the world as a whole, then she would do it. After all, it was only one life in the face of thousands.  _ In Death, Sacrifice. _

“I must retire for the night,” Riordan continued, clearly reading the tension in the room. “There is much I still need to do to prepare for my own journey to Denerim, and the three of you need your rest before your march. I will leave ahead of the armies to scout the darkspawn horde, and send my findings back so that you all might be prepared.” He paused, looking at each of the Wardens in turn. “Rest well; it will be your last night in comfort until the archdemon is slain.”

He bowed his head in dismissal, and Brielle turned on her heel, exiting out the door before Surana or Loghain could say a word. They followed closely behind, the three of them walking in silence toward the end of the hall, unable to bring up the topic at hand not matter how they tried. Still, even when they came upon their rooms, they hovered outside, refusing to meet one another’s eyes.

“I’ll do it.”

Brielle and Loghain’s gaze flashed at Surana, who finally broke the silence. Her expression was stern, her dark eyes glimmering in both fear and pride. She looked at each of them in turn, somewhat amused by their surprised expressions, and she set her jaw again, repeating, “I’ll do it.”

“What the hell are you on?” Brielle growled, suddenly finding her words. “You will  _ not _ ?”

“And why not?” she replied harshly. “It rids the world of another blood mage; it’s what they’d want, no?”

Brielle ran her hands down her face in exasperation, looking at Surana in disbelief. Why on earth would she sacrifice herself for the good of Ferelden? She had an entire life ahead of her, a woman she loved, and a family she wanted to make. To end it so suddenly? She didn’t deserve that.

“ _ No! _ ” Brielle exclaimed, gripping Surana’s shoulder. “Hela, Leliana would  _ kill _ me if I let you do that. You have a life ahead of you; I can’t allow that.”

“Then I will,” Loghain interjected. “It offers me a chance to--”

“ _ No _ .”

Brielle looked at Loghain, frowning deeply. “If you’re looking for redemption after what you did to Ferelden over the last year, death by archdemon isn’t the way to go. Actions speak louder than words, Loghain, and well, you still have a lot you need to make up for.”  
He raised a brow when he met her eyes, though he knew she was right. There were too many things he signed off on that he couldn’t take back, and to sacrifice himself in the face of the archdemon would erase all he had done too easily. Brielle would never let him get away with it, and he wasn’t surprised that she denied him the chance to do so.

“I’m the senior Warden of our, ehm,  _ small _ order, regardless of what Riordan says. If anyone takes the final blow, it’s me. I have to do this.”

Surana and Loghain watched her in silence, knowing well that there was no way they could deter her from changing her mind. When Brielle set her mind to something, she would be hard pressed to change it, and if she actually did, it was always last minute and in the most reckless way possible. But this was a serious affair, and the safety of a nation rested heavily on their shoulders. It was something she had to be absolutely certain about, and there was nothing she was more sure about in her life. Except maybe….

“Brielle…” Surana’s voice was soft, almost frightened, as she looked at her friend, and Brielle slowly met her eyes, her expression apologetic. “Are you sure about this?”

She shrugged, shaking her head. “I have to be. There isn’t much of a choice, and it makes sense that I’m the one to do it. Please don’t try to change my mind.”

Silence fell upon the three of them again, and Brielle was feeling rather uncomfortable. She could feel Loghain’s eyes upon her, searching for some kind of answer she could not give him. Her hands wrung together, eyes fixed upon the floor, her stomach churning in anxiety of what was to come. Why had fate been so cruel to her to take from her what she once loved, only to possibly take her own life when she might have soon found happiness again? She clenched her jaw, sighing deeply.

“Get some sleep, you two,” she said, shouldering her way past Surana and Loghain, avoiding both of their gazes. “We’ve got another month-long journey ahead of us; we need our strength.”

Neither Surana nor Loghain spoke, only watching Brielle as she stalked off, headed directly to her own room. Glancing at Surana, Loghain met her eyes briefly, and she nodded her head in the direction of Brielle, as though to tell him  _ Talk to her. _ Regardless of what she thought, Loghain’s features hardened, feigning ignorance as to what Surana might have meant. She was perceptive, however, and could see right through the stony mask he wore, the softness in his eyes when he turned back to watch Brielle disappear telling her all she needed to know. 

“I’m going to sleep,” she said, disappearing into her room. “Don’t stay up too late.”

Not a second later, her door clicked shut, and Loghain was left to himself in the center of the hall, unsure as to what he was to do. He needed his rest, but something within him was telling him to speak to Brielle before she retired for the night. Their moments before Surana summoned them still lingered on his mind, and even the seriousness of the moment could not push her from his thoughts. Still, if he followed her, would she be there?

Berating himself for his thoughts, Loghain still couldn’t help but to follow her path down the hall, features impassive and gait stiff, but when he turned the corner to where he knew her room to be, he was startled to find Brielle leaning with her back against the wall, tear-stained cheeks hidden by locks of long, brown hair. He froze, his jaw clenched, and thought himself a foolish man for even thinking to find her, but when she realized his presence, Brielle caught his gaze, holding it steadily, firmly.

Deep blue eyes were glazed over as tears continued to fall, and her lip trembled when she looked at Loghain, wondering why on earth he had followed her. Though Brielle was confused as to why he was there, she did not necessarily want him to go. There was a longing in her heart that she had not felt in a year whenever he was near, and try as she might to push it away, it only barreled through, stronger and more persistent than before.

“Hey,” she sighed, tearing her gaze away from his. She felt embarrassed that he had found her a sobbing mess, but what was new? He had already seen a side of her that she rarely showed to others; what was one more time?

“Are you sure you want to do this? I  _ can _ take the final blow. One life, for all of Ferelden.”

She almost looked at him again, but stopped herself, shaking her head stiffly. “I don’t want you to do that, Loghain. I don’t think Anora would forgive me if I allowed it, either.”

Loghain huffed, amused at the thought of his daughter. “No, I suppose you’re right. But if duty wills it of me, then I’ll oblige it.”

“Yeah…” There was a pause, and a comfortable silence fell between them. Though she was rather miserable for the moment, his presence did something to calm her, if only a bit. “Hopefully, Riordan can fulfill his part of the battle. Then we won’t have to worry about it.”

“And if he doesn’t?”

Brielle bit her lip. “Then I suppose I get to see my parents and Tamlen again.” It was a moment before she brought herself to look at him again, and Loghain wore the most peculiar expression she had yet seen on him. What it was, she couldn’t place, but she reached out, brushing her fingers against the back of his hand in assurance, drawing his gaze to hers.

“I’ll be fine, Loghain. It’ll be fine.”

He did not seem convinced, but her touch alone relaxed him, and he was almost tempted to take her hand, as though to comfort her as best as he could. However, before he could even think to move, she had withdrawn, bowing her head, hastily wiping away the tears that streamed down her face.

“You should get some sleep,” she said, gently. “We have a long road ahead of us.” She offered him a smile, which he could not quite return, and she slipped away, disappearing into her room.

“Goodnight, Loghain.”

\----------------------

Morning came far too soon. 

The sun’s first rays of light peaked in through her bedroom curtains, shining brightly in Brielle’s eyes. Though she was aware that it was time to get up, she loathed herself to be parted with the soft blankets and plush pillows she had piled around her. When she would next have a moment of comfort like this, she did not know, and though the time to depart Redcliffe drew near, the memories of the night before flooded her mind. 

She might die. Death was always inevitable, and while she had survived everything thus far, she could still die. Riordan assured them that it was him that would be ending the archdemon, but with the luck she had in her own life, her own relationships, she knew that there was a very real chance she would have to take the final blow. Her stomach clenched at the thought; while the prospect of seeing her parents, of seeing  _ Tamlen _ again made it a bit sweeter, she loathed to leave her friends behind.

To think Brielle would have to say goodbye, and not see them again, wrenched her heart, and to think that she would have to tell them it was their last goodbye? She couldn’t bear it. Despite what she wanted to believe--that she was a loner with no need for closeness--the truth of the matter was that she became quite attached to the people she traveled with. Surana and Leliana. Wynne and Morrigan. Sten, Zevran, Shale, and even Oghren, to an extent. She liked him when he was asleep, anyway. Even Alistair continued to pull at her heartstrings, and she had neither seen, nor heard from him for a month. She couldn’t imagine that he’d want to speak to her, but a part of her would like to see him, one last time, at least.

And then there was Loghain. He was insufferable sometimes, stubborn, and clashed with about everyone Brielle knew, no matter what the topic was. Even if they were in agreement, there was something that would always set  _ someone _ off, but Brielle liked him. She hated admitting it to herself, but to not have him around wasn’t an option, not anymore. Maybe when she brought him on board, she would have liked him to stay leagues away from her, but now he was a friend. Maybe something more. She didn’t want to think about it.

She was supposed to hate him, after everything he had done to stop her, what he had done to her people in the city. Brielle didn’t even care that he had come after her; what she was  _ furious _ about was the situation with the alienage, and while she had spoken her mind before, she was far from done with him. 

Bolting upright, her blanket fell to her waist as Brielle dragged her hands through her hair and then down her face. She did not need to deal with that sort of negativity this morning, and truth be told, she wanted to make the final march to Denerim as pleasant as possible, considering the stakes. Peanut, at her feet, stretched lazily across the width of the bed, groaning deeply in the way only a mabari could. He rolled onto his back, paws propped limply against his chest. Flopping his head to the side, Peanut looked at Brielle with sleepy, pleading eyes, the stump of his tail wagging when Brielle met his gaze. 

It was as though her feelings of anger melted away the moment the dog looked at her, and she threw the blankets off of her, laying the wrong way down her bed so that she could lay on the dog’s chest. He wiggled beneath her touch, twisting and turning so he could lick her face, but Brielle avoided his slobbery tongue, giving him a good belly scratch when she pulled herself back up.

Peanut barked in joy, his tongue lolling out the side of his mouth happily. Brielle snorted, scratching all along his chest and belly, watching as his rear leg shook. It was the little things, like this, that Brielle cherished, and if she wasn’t mistaken, Peanut  _ was _ her longest running companion she had to date. He had been there when she escaped Ostagar, and stayed by her side throughout her entire adventures across Ferelden. She  _ had _ nearly made him her Champion against Loghain at the Landsmeet, but something told her that Eamon would have disapproved.  _ Some Ferelden, refusing to leave the fate of his country to a mabari. _

A knock on the door pulled her from her thoughts, and her hands slowed their attack on Peanut’s tummy. She looked at the door, brows knitted together, wondering who on earth might be knocking so early. Regardless, she sighed, knowing well that she would have to get dressed soon, and she patted Peanut once more, saying, “The door’s unlocked, come in.”

The latch clicked, and the door swung inward, Loghain’s pallid face looking through the crack. When he found Brielle on her bed scratching Peanut, he raised a brow, though said nothing of it. However, he could not mask the amusement that crossed his face at the pair of them, so obviously enjoying one another’s company, that he hated to interrupt them.

Brielle, on the other hand, kept her eyes fixed on Peanut, feeling the tips of her ears grow warm. She could not forget, not even for a moment, what happened between them the night before, and her heart beat uncomfortably in her chest, knowing that he still looked at her. After a moment, however, she looked up, and Peanut rolled lazily onto his side, catching sight of Loghain as he slowly entered. He bounded from the bed, greeting him happily.

“Riordan found Surana and I already,” Loghain said, bending his knee as Peanut put his paws on his shoulders. The mabari greeted him with a slobbery lick, and Loghain chuckled, patting the dog’s head. “I’m surprised he hasn’t seen you yet.”

“He might be on his way, you never know.”

He huffed, glancing at her as Brielle slipped off the bed, pulling her hair back out of her face. She still needed to get dressed; her armor was delivered to her the night before, sometime between her talk with Loghain, and their meeting with Riordan, and in pristine condition, nonetheless. She was surprised by how quickly it was repaired, but she supposed it was the least Eamon could do after she had saved Redcliffe  _ twice _ .

“You want to close the door?” she asked distractedly, tying up her hair. “If you don’t mind, that is. I’m going to get into my armor before I’m tempted to slide back into bed and forget the Blight is a thing.”

Loghain looked at her quizzically, but obliged, keeping his gaze focused on Peanut, who had since rolled onto his back again, begging Loghain for belly scratches. She could sense the tension and discomfort at the close quarters, especially as she changed into her armor before him, but it wasn’t something that bothered Brielle, herself. Growing up in the clan, she had become quite accustomed to changing in front of her peers, whether it was to suddenly defend her people from invaders, or to make quick work of a hunt to provide for the clan. To her, it was nothing. But to Loghain? Something else entirely.

“Did Riordan say when he was leaving?” Brielle asked casually, pulling her breeches up, tying them securely around her waist. 

“Not that I know of,” he replied, as though commenting on the weather. He chanced a glance at Brielle, who had just pulled her night shirt over her head, tossing it aside. He froze, his gaze lingering for a second on the muscles of her shoulders as they twisted, before quickly looked back at Peanut, who had not noticed Loghain’s falter in belly scratches. He made sure to keep his attention focused on the dog; he did not want to be taken for some sort of deviant, after all, nor did he wish to make Brielle uncomfortable. Of course, even his presence alone could cause a stir.

“You look a bit tense, are you alright?” 

Loghain did not expect her to speak, and he silently cursed himself for making his thoughts so obvious. Tentatively, he looked at Brielle, raising a brow and his features settled into an otherwise stoney expression, as though it were silly to even think that he was bothered by anything.

She adjusted her tabard, so it laid straight, before fitting her belt and chestpiece. However, Brielle kept her eyes fixed on Loghain, giving him a pointed look.

“Keep your secrets then,” she said with an amused grin. “I’ll get it out of you sooner than later.”

He huffed. “If it helps you sleep at night, sure.” He slowly rose to his feet, though Peanut protested, rolling his shoulders as he straightened out his back. It was then that Brielle realized the silver armor he had worn since Denerim was nowhere to be seen, and he bore the colors of the Grey Wardens: silver and blue.

“Where did that come from?” she asked, approaching him while she buckled her belt. The armor at her sides clanked together with each step she took, but she paid it no mind. “We didn’t have a spare set of armor that would fit you...unless Riordan had that stashed away somewhere.”

Loghain nodded, peering at her down the length of his nose when she stopped merely inches before him. “He had a set, by some miracle,” he said with a roll of his eyes. “I would have been just as comfortable in my armor, but he insisted I bear the colors of the Order. That, and a few dings that Eamon’s men couldn’t get out, I suppose.” 

“It looks good on you,” Brielle said without really thinking, and it was a moment later that she realized exactly what she said. Her ears burned bright red, and she turned away quickly, latching the final piece of armor across her chest with a bit of difficulty. “Eamon’s men were able to return my armor to me without a scratch,” she added quickly, donning the final pieces of her uniform. “But then again, your armor is a bit more metal than mine.”

She slung her blades across her back, grabbing her pack from the spot on the floor, next to what would have been Peanut’s bed. She hadn’t taken a single thing out of it, so Brielle didn’t have to worry about tracking a missing piece of equipment down. When she turned around, Loghain was leaning heavily against the doorframe, watching her with an unreadable expression, but said nothing, even as she approached.

“We should probably go to the main hall,” she said, her hand touching his forearm briefly. She could feel him shiver at the contact, and Brielle couldn’t help but grin mischievously at him. “Don’t want to keep them waiting.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains graphic content regarding battle.

The main hall was filled with Brielle’s party, some gnawing away at a quick breakfast and others nodding off on a bench after being rudely awakened before dawn broke. Brielle, Peanut, and Loghain entered lastly, and though they tried to remain inconspicuous, the clank of their armor, coupled with Peanut’s excited barking as he announced his two favorite people, drew unwanted attention. Bleary eyes blinked as they watched the Wardens enter, and several groggily rose to their feet, packs slung hastily over their shoulders. Surana, whose hand was linked tightly within Leliana’s, rose to her feet, her arm crossing her chest in greeting.

“Riordan has already left,” she said, her voice dragging, the weariness within unmasked. “He didn’t have time to speak with you himself; he expressed urgency in his departure.”

Brielle nodded, brushing a stray strand of hair out of her eyes. “I suppose there isn’t much we can do about that,” she said. “It  _ is _ a Blight, after all.” She paused, shifting her pack on her back, glancing quickly at Loghain, his expression settling into something impassive once again. “We need to get going; Denerim isn’t going to come to us.”

Formalities were quick; Anora and Eamon had little time to linger, as the fate of Ferelden now hung in the balance. It was a relief, truthfully, to not have to deal with more than a few quick words, and had Brielle had any say, she would avoid politics altogether. Still, as far as she knew, there wouldn’t be a single political conversation from the moment they left Eamon’s castle to the time she drove her daggers through the archdemon’s skull, should she get close enough.

Of course, that wasn’t to say that she was sure she was ready to kill the archdemon. Considering the price that needed to be paid, Brielle was closer and closer to losing herself on the way, avoiding the fight altogether. Though she was made aware of the situation only the night before, somehow the gravity of the world’s state weighed even more heavily on her shoulders. Leaving the comforts of Redcliffe castle, the pungent stench of rotting darkspawn and death and piles of bodies littering the pathway, the chaos left in the darkspawn’s wake reminded her exactly how fucked they really were.

The journey across Ferelden was just as they had made before; long walks through dense forests unguarded, tromping through vast, empty fields, and the occasional skirmish between demons, bandits, or darkspawn. It was nothing they couldn't handle, of course, and next to the threat of an archdemon, it almost felt like a waste of time and resources. Despite that, however, Ferelden was oddly still, all signs of life hidden away or laying in the fields, a testament of the bloodshed that had swept the nation. Every so often, they came across a trader, whose supplies dwindled so low they barely had the means to support themselves, let alone their families. Brielle was generous with her donations, having more sovereigns than she could really think to do with from her journeys, and she could see the hope flicker in their eyes at another chance for survival. Still, it left her hollow, to watch the frightened Fereldens run off to help their families when there was little left to keep them afloat.

"They have little hope," Leliana said sadly, watching as the Blight's latest victim scurried off. She was an elven woman, a city elf from what Brielle could surmise, holding tightly onto a young daughter barely into her second year. They had been days without a bath, dirt and grime covering their skin and clothes, and their shoes were worn, as though they were running for days at a time. The child lay limply in her mother's arms; though alive, it was obvious she was weak with hunger, and it tore at Brielle, seeing them in such ruin.

"They're city elves," she sighed, her eyes lifeless. If she was truthful with herself, she could have sworn she remembered them from Denerim. "If they had any hope, it was little to begin with. To think she still fought to survive even after seeing the state of Ferelden…she's far more resilient than many soldiers I've met."

”Then again,” Surana added, “most of the soldiers you've met have been human. Even their poor couldn't fathom living in an alienage, and if she came from Denerim?  _ Well… _ "

She trailed off, and Brielle cast a sharp glance at Loghain, who walked beside her in silence. He did not meet her eyes, but she could see him thinking, from the shameful look in his eyes to the frown that curved his lips. She knew that he could feel her gaze upon him, but she said nothing, and it was only when she looked ahead again that he finally looked at her.

“Wherever she’s from, I hope she can get as far away from the darkspawn as possible and make a life for herself.”

There was a murmured assent, but the party fell into silence once again, only interrupted by Oghren’s loud, drunken blabbering behind them. Brielle felt numb, frightened even, and it felt as though it had been ages since anything had pulled at her emotions so hard. This was the end of her journey, the final leg of a quest she had set off to accomplish since arriving at Ostagar over a year ago. It was odd to reflect on how much everything had changed in the time she spent traveling Ferelden, and she never would have believed that she accomplished all that she did. She was just a hunter, but she had gone on to save an entire nation, and it would seem that fate had more for her to accomplish.

\--------------

The road to Denerim felt faster than their journey to Redcliffe as far as Brielle could tell, and while she was thankful for it, the trepidation of what was to come still weighed heavily on her mind. Regardless of what the future held, there was a reason for the pace at which they traveled; while there was an urgency to be had, the road to Redcliffe was deterred by Brielle’s own injuries, while now, they were readily prepared for a scuffle on the road. There were near misses, of course, and too often she found herself rushing into the center of a skirmish, taunting the likes of whatever demon or darkspawn they encountered along the way. It was a thrill that little else gave her, and to be right in the fray sated what bloodlust her hunter skills gave her. Part of her believed she would have made a great warrior, but Brielle had too much fun confining herself to the shadows to lead such a lifestyle. Even with her enjoyment of being on the front line, the element of surprise gave her a thrill that little else did, and feeling the darkspawn succumb to her power was satisfying, indeed.

They were about a week out from Denerim when the greatest horde of darkspawn hit, though it was nothing compared to what lay in wait in the capital city. Riordan had gone on ahead to scout, sending back letters to alert Brielle to what they would soon run into, and she was thankful for his correspondence. Had he not taken care to report what it was he saw, there were several instances where part of their group would have likely been ambushed, and injured badly at that. Luckily, the skirmishes were never long, as everyone worked together to fell the enemy, and injuries were kept to a minimum. It did nothing to detract from their journey, and once everything was settled, they started back up again, leaving a pile of burning corpses in their wake.

However, as easy as the other fights were, this fight was far different. Brielle sensed the darkspawn when they were still several miles away, and the closer they drew, the greater the threat grew. From what she could tell, there were, at the very least, 20 darkspawn, including two or more ogres. While she could easily rely on her Grey Warden senses to alert her to the relative size and distance of the nearest darkspawn, when the group got too big, their numbers became muddled, and it was difficult to pinpoint exactly what was what. Anticipation shivered down Brielle's spine, her fingers twitching to wrap around the hilt of her blades, and she came to a sudden halt, the rest of the company following suit. Surana and Loghain looked at each other, before fixing their gaze immediately on Brielle, feeling the imminent darkspawn threat before she could even say a word. It was no surprise, though; it was part of being a Warden, after all. 

" _ Well _ ," Brielle said, turning toward her companions. While they could not sense the enemy as she could, there was still a certain nervousness that settled upon them, as they looked at each of the Grey Wardens, easily reading the tension in their postures. Brielle ran a hand through her hair, her blue eyes flashing in disgust at what she was about to say. "There's a bigass group of darkspawn ahead, and from the feel of it, they’re going to put up a hell of a fight. I suppose they’re going to be giving us a taste of what’s to come, but I'm guessing they're there to  _ intercept _ anyone on the way to Denerim."

There was a murmur throughout the group, though no one said exactly what was on their minds. Instead, they waited, albeit impatiently, for Brielle’s word, but for the moment, it did not come. Beside her, Loghain shifted his weight, and she felt his shoulder brush against hers when he cleared his throat.

"That would make sense if they weren't a mindless horde," Loghain stated, his gruff voice carrying throughout the company. Brielle could see in his eyes that he thought quickly, formulating the best plan of attack they could muster. "They don't have the capacity to think tactically."

"You make a fair point, Loghain," Surana interjected, running her hand along the length of her staff in contemplation. She, too, was thinking of the best course of action, but from a mage’s perspective, rather than a warrior’s. "But the archdemon is at their helm now; the only time darkspawn have any semblance of order is during a Blight."

He considered her briefly before nodding his agreement. "You're right," he said, turning his gaze slowly to Brielle. "Regardless, that doesn't give us any answers to how we're going to get past the ambush ahead. What would you have us do, Brielle?"

She bit her tongue, considering her options. Hitting the darkspawn head on would likely fell them faster, but at the cost of her friends getting seriously wounded. Only a handful of them were made to take on the enemy head on, and from them, less still that could continue to take the brunt of the damage. On the other side, the rogues and mages would do well in the shadows, sneaking up on the darkspawn, but the warriors’ heavy armor would alert their presence right away. She didn’t want to expend too much energy at the moment; this was likely going to be a relatively quick skirmish, and she wanted to make sure they were all in the best condition they could be for Denerim.

“I have an idea.”

The group waited with bated breath for Brielle to speak, and it was a moment before she found her voice again, flipping the words over in her mind several times. “Zevran, Leliana, and I will stealth on ahead and flank their camp. We’ll position ourselves at either side, and the farthest point away.”

“Your wish is my command,” Zevran said with a flourishing bow, and while Leliana rolled her eyes, the grin she wore betrayed her amusement. She, too, nodded, and stood beside him, awaiting their next command.

“Morrigan.” The witch tilted her head curiously from the back of the group, slowly making her way forward. Brielle kept her gaze fixed upon her, waiting until she was in line with Zevran and Leliana, before addressing her again.

“I doubt the darkspawn are clever enough to see the difference between a wolf, and a mage disguised as a wolf,” she continued, raising a brow. “You can infiltrate their ranks, and they’d be none the wiser.”

“‘Tis not a bad idea,” Morrigan mused, folding her arms over her chest. “And I assume I await your command to attack from the midst of their camp?”

“Exactly.”

A mischievous grin curved her lips, and she bowed her head in a slight nod, signalling her agreement. That was four down, and still a handful to go, and Wynne stood next to Surana quietly, tapping her chin in thought, before addressing Brielle herself.

“And what of Warden Surana and myself?” she asked. “We are mages, and while our specialties are far different, our talents are best used from afar, and not in close combat.”

“Each of you will follow Leliana and Zevran, shielding them when they enter the fray, and attack as best as you can from your location.” She paused, turning her attention to the remaining three, the warriors.

“I feel as though I would be correct in assuming we’ll be making the first move, yes?” Loghain asked, though he needn’t do so. He already knew what she was thinking.

“Yes,” Brielle replied. “Focus as much of the attention as you can on the three of you, and the moment the rest of us hear your assault, we’ll know to join in from our positions.” Her eyes glimmered in excitement, a devious grin curving her lips. Her friends, warriors she was proud to fight alongside, grew restless, her excitement infectious, spreading to them all in some way. They remained silent, though it felt as though the world cheered her on, and Brielle unsheathed her daggers, allowing her arms to fall to her sides, with her weapons firmly in her grip. Light reflected off the shining blades, as though they hungered for darkspawn blood, and she met the gaze of each and every one of them, a fire blazing in her eyes. “Let’s hunt some darkspawn.”

Instantly, they split up into several smaller groups, quickly and silently taking their positions. Leliana and Surana ventured to the left of the darkspawn camp, and Zevran and Wynne took the right, each of them stalking quietly through the brush that littered the floor. Morrigan melted away into the shadows, her wolfish form impressive enough to even trick Brielle, and she skulked away, her paws silent against the ground. The warriors unsheathed their weapons as well, testing the edges of their blades carefully before falling into line beside one another, and Peanut, who had remained quiet the entire time padded next to Brielle, his face resembling a sort of dog-like determination.

“Take the lead, Loghain,” Brielle said as she backed away, Peanut on her heels. He watched her, his brow creasing, and he only gave her pause when she saw the concern in his eyes.

“And what of you?” he asked, pointedly ignoring the pointed glances of Sten and Oghren. They were ready to get the battle going, and for Loghain to stall them, if even for a moment, was annoying enough. “Who’ll have your back?”

Brielle grinned. “I can think of a handful who do,” she said. “But don’t worry about me, Peanut never leaves my side.”

Loghain did not seem convinced, but neither did he hold her back when she trotted off, Peanut at her heels. Feeling the darkspawn grow nearer, she gave their makeshift camp a wide berth, her pace slowing to a careful gait, so not to rustle the branches too much as she passed them by. Her heart raced in anticipation; while she had slain darkspawn time and time again, she supposed it was her situation as a whole that had her nerves on high alert. To think that the end could be right around the corner, didn't settle with her. Sure, the Blight was about to end, but at the cost of her own life? Or Surana's, or Loghain's? She knew it was the way of the Grey Warden, the great sacrifice to save the world, but if she was truthful to herself, she didn't want to sacrifice her life. She didn't want to be a Grey Warden in the first place, but there was no alternative to cure the taint. It was either join the cause against the Blight, or die an early death, slow and painful.

Or become as Tamlen had...

They quickly rounded to the far side of the darkspawn base, and Peanut nosed her hand, his tail wagging in both excitement and anxiety. The mabari was always a faithful companion in her battles, but Brielle couldn’t help but wonder if the worry on his face was more for her own anxiety, rather than his. As they settled into their positions, however, the stench of the foul creatures washed over both of them, and as she crouched in the bushes, she could just make out the set up of their small band. 

Genlocks, hurlocks, and shrieks stalked around their base, sharp teeth bared in feral snarls, growing impatient at the lack of bloodshed. The two ogres were much the same; one was near the opposite end of the camp, and the other was right in front of Brielle, imposing figures hulking over the rest. She could hear their guttural growls emanating through the air, nearly drowning out the snarls from the smaller darkspawn, but she knew not to get arrogant. They were still extremely dangerous, and they held nothing back when it came to battle.

"What do you think, boy?" Brielle asked Peanut as she knelt beside him, peering through the bushes before them and looking for the warriors on the other side. "You ready to get some darkspawn?"

Peanut looked as though he wanted to bark in agreement, but thought better of it, instead opting to drag his tongue across her face happily. Brielle stifled a laugh, kissing his cold, wet nose, and they both looked through the bushes again. Across the way, she could just make out Loghain, the Grey Warden colors catching her eye, though just barely. He seemed to be searching the bushes around her, perhaps for any sign of the elf, and though she thought signaling her position might be helpful, she did not want to draw the darkspawn’s attention to her and potentially ruin their plan.

Reluctantly tearing her gaze away from him, Brielle spotted a lone wolf infiltrating the camp, bright yellow eyes watching the darkspawn carefully, but shrewdly. She could see Morrigan's default expression in wolfish features, and she bit back a grin, recognizing the annoyed indifference. The darkspawn eyed her warily, their bleary eyes following her as she stalked through their numbers, a perfect imitation of a true wolf. Her tail swished back and forth, and every so often she raised her head, nose twitching as she smelled for Brielle and her company, yellow eyes fixing back on Loghain as he prepared the ambush. There was a moment of complete silence; the sounds of the forest had halted, the chirping of birds lost to the void. Even the darkspawn were quieted, the only sound they made being their heavy footfalls against brittle foliage on the ground. Brielle searched for Loghain again through dozens of monsters, and as she caught sight of him across the way, her neck prickled, as though his icy eyes found hers as well.

And he roared.

Brandishing his weapon, Loghain threw himself into the fray, the crunch of his shield against a hurlock's helm echoing in the clearing. Not a second later, Morrigan burst forth from the wolf's body, fur melting away as a wave of entropic magic radiated from her figure, knocking back several of the monsters that had surrounded her, taking the group by surprise. Behind Loghain, Sten and Oghren followed him into the midst of battle, and as though sharing one mind, Brielle, Leliana, and Zevran burst from their positions, brandishing their daggers and throwing themselves toward the unwitting darkspawn.

Peanut was on Brielle’s tail as she launched herself toward the nearest group of darkspawn, two hurlock and two genlock, the light of Morrigan’s magic dancing off her blades. They snarled, forming a solid wall before her, as though to encircle her if she got close enough. Peanut sensed their plans and howled, a jarring, haunted sound, bearing razor sharp fangs as he pushed off the ground with powerful legs, launching himself through the air.

His paws thudded heavily against the taller hurlock’s shoulder, and he sank his fangs into the creature’s neck, the momentum of his blow knocking it back and off its feet. It landed on the ground with a heavy crush, the metal of his armor clanking loudly together. Peanut made quick work of his prey, viciously throwing his head from side to side, and it was mere moments later that Brielle saw the darkspawn’s head rip from its shoulders, rolling away, the expression on its face horrified surprise.

The other three darkspawn, watching as their companion fell so quickly, did not notice as Brielle threw herself toward them, her teeth bared in a feral grin. When they came to, it was too late to stop her; Brielle wedged herself between the two genlock, her daggers slashing long gashes across the front of their chests, spilling black ichor that gushed, unendingly, from their chests. They stared down at the wounds as Brielle rolled away, springing up to her feet several feet behind them, brandishing her weapons menacingly. It was a few seconds before they realized what she had done, and a few seconds more before they spun on their heels, gripping their weapons to begin their assault on the elf, snarling angrily. 

Spinning her blades in her hands, Brielle took off toward them as well, her legs carrying her quickly through the fray. Another darkspawn, felled by Peanut, nearly caused her to tumble as it hit the ground with a nasty crunch, and she had to hurdle over it, lest she fall. She soon met the genlocks, their stocky bodies colliding with her heavily, and they nearly knocked the wind out of her. Peanut, sensing her distress, launched himself at the genlocks as well, fangs bared in a feral snarl as he hit them head on, nearly knocking one of them off its feet. His jaw clamped over its arm, tearing it away and pulling it from Brielle, and she focused her attack on the remaining creature, which swung its own blade about its head, bringing it down hard on Brielle.

She threw up her daggers in time to catch the sword on her blades, sparks flying from where metal met, showering her in an angry glow. Grimacing as a few of them landed on her face, she pushed against the genlock with all her power, forcing it to take a step back. Her muscles protested as it pushed back. Brielle had to think quickly; they were matched in strength, but she was far more clever than the mindless monster, and as quick as a flash of lightning, she ducked, withdrawing her blades and dropped to the ground, sweeping its legs out from underneath it. It screeched as it fell, and before its back could hit the ground, she jumped up and drove her daggers straight into its chest.

It screeched in agony as Brielle dragged her blades down its torso, opening its chest, black ichor spilling from within. It was only when she tugged her weapons from its flesh that it touched the ground, limbs twitching, the life in its eyes fading. Peanut still made work of the other genlock, and Brielle soon joined him, driving her ichor-soaked daggers into its back as the mabari jumped up, clamping his jaw around its throat. The genlock thrashed, pulling the daggers from Brielle's hands as it tried to throw Peanut from its body, but the mabari held on tight, and he tightened his grip on its throat, a sickening crunch echoing in the air before it crumpled to the ground in an unmoving heap.

Peanut barked, wagging his tail, before bounding off to take on more of the vicious creatures. Brielle allowed herself only a moment to catch her breath before she retrieved her weapons, but before her fingers could even brush against the pommels, she was caught from behind but the scruff of her neck, lifted off the ground and thrown to the side as though she were nothing more than a rag doll. She landed with a heavy thud a few yards away, on top of a pile of dead darkspawn, that oozed grossly from their open wounds. The jagged edges of their armor cut into her body, pricking her skin in several places, much to her chagrin. She hissed in pain, blinking her eyes to clear her head, and focus on the creature that had pulled her further from her weapons.

Standing between she and the rest of her party, one of the hulking ogres fixed its attention on Brielle, a feral snarl curling its lips. Without her weapons, she wouldn't stand a chance against it, and she had no magic to aid her in this battle. She rose to her feet slowly, steadying herself and testing her limbs to make sure nothing was broken or out of place. Gingerly taking a few steps, she kept her eyes fixed on the darkspawn as it flexed its massive claws, ready to strike, and it was then that she judged nothing to be broken, just a bit banged up. Still, it did not help her situation as the ogre came barreling at her, a ferocious roar echoing through the air.

Suddenly, a wall of corpses soaked in a bloody, red haze, rose before her, slowly forming a sort of golem to meet the ogre head on. Brielle was slightly horrified at the sight, but the adrenaline pumping through her veins had something different in mind, and as the ogre and darkspawn golem collided together, Brielle made a break for it before the golem could be knocked back into her, causing her more damage than she would like. 

While she still couldn't tell the source of the magic, she was more intent on finding her weapons from where she slayed the genlocks previously. The hollow in which they fought was still a chaotic mess, metal clashing against metal and sparks flying about. An arrow whizzed past her head and embedded into the trees not far ahead of her, and when she whipped around to find the source, she caught sight of Loghain smashing into a hurlock with all the force he could muster, a snarl distorting his features. He met her eyes briefly as the collided, before bringing his blade down on the creature's neck, severing its head from its body.

It did not take long to find her blades, and as she wrenched them from the genlock's gut, she whirled around just in time to block the attack of a hurlock, whose lengthy blade seemed to he twice the size of Brielle's body. Her eyes widened as it heaved the greatsword up in preparation for another blow, and as she watched the metal glint as it brought the sword down, she could do nothing but jump backward, narrowly avoiding the blade.

She was surprised by the speed at which it attacked, but once she regained her footing, Brielle matched its swings easily enough. Every time they clashed, however, her arms jarred painfully, and it was obvious that the hurlock would not relent, refusing to allow weariness to overtake it.

Brielle, however, persisted. With each swing of its weapon, she was able to hack and slash between its slow movements. She caught its hip with one dagger, hearing a roar of pain echo around her, and with the other, she managed clip the underside of its arm, slicing open putrid skin to expose the muscle beneath. That angered the darkspawn, and it suddenly jerked its arm, managing to drive its elbow against her jaw. She stumbled back a pace, momentarily stunned, and the hurlock took its chance. Before she could get her bearings straight, it lifted its greatsword above its head with intentions to cleave her in half, and Brielle felt as though she was moving through water as she mildly panicked, trying to move her feet  _ anywhere  _ but there. The best she could manage was to drive her weapon into its gut when she threw out her arm in one last, desperate attempt to kill it.


	13. Chapter 13

The hurlock's blow never came. There was a ferocious roar that echoed in the clearing, and the ground shook terribly as the first of the two ogres fell to the ground, black ichor gushing from where its arm had once been. The flesh golem flung the severed limb across the way, aimed vaguely at the distracted hurlock that Brielle currently faced, and it caught it in the stomach, sending it flying through the air.

Beyond the golem, Brielle saw Surana, her mouth agape at the sight she beheld. The woman floated several feet above the ground, arms outstretched as though she was being crucified, her palms bleeding freely from where the skin had been rend. From forth the wounds flowed the magic in red, hazy clouds, encircling her in a blood magic vortex, and her dark brown eyes now glowed a deep, angry red. It was Surana who controlled the golem's movements, and Brielle was awed by the spectacle of her performance. She had never seen her cast magic in such a way; Surana only bothered herself with simpler spells, magic that did not expend so much energy as the golem did. It was taking a toll, that much Brielle could see. Her limbs shook visibly, hands quaking, and there was a trickle of blood that ran from her nose as sweat beaded on her brow. Brielle knew they had to finish off the second ogre quickly, or Surana might fall prey to the demon that aided her.

With a mighty warcry, Sten swung his blade against the final darkspawn, slicing it in half as though it was a hot knife to butter. Ichor sprayed across him and the surrounding area, and the two pieces that were once a darkspawn fell to the ground in a lifeless, squelching heap. Relief spread through Brielle as they felled the smaller darkspawn, but the final ogre yet remained. Surana still controlled the golem from across the way, while the rest of the group gathered around Brielle, their weapons drawn and waiting. Peanut was at her left, fangs bared in a feral growl, and Loghain to her right, shield positioned before him, blade glinting even as the metal was covered in darkspawn gore. They glanced at one another, a dangerous grin spreading across her lips, and Loghain nodded, returning the gesture only briefly, before the ogre's roar drew both their attention to the fight now raging on. 

The golem and ogre were throwing punches at one another, the former having grown a bit as the corpse of the dead hurlock had been added to Surana's monstrosity. It was apparent, however, that the golem was more fragile than it let on; when the ogre threw a punch at it, the genlock that made up its shoulder was knocked off, flying a few yards away and hitting a tree with a thud. It fell, lifeless, to the base of the trunk, and though a red haze surrounded it, Surana's blood magic taking hold, it could not be added to the main body again. The effort took a toll on the blood mage, though, and the red glow in her eyes flickered as she momentarily lost hold.

"Morrigan!" Brielle exclaimed. "Can you help her?" Morrigan looked at her with a raised brow, but nodded curtly, transforming into a raven almost immediately as she propelled herself through the air. It was not quick enough, however, and the golem slowly started to fall apart, though the main ogre remained upright. Brielle was certain it would not be long before the golem fell, completely lifeless.

And she was right. One well-aimed blow to its jaw sent it toppling backward, the red haze that kept it mobile dissolving the moment it hit the ground. Across the way, Surana collapsed to the ground, her nose bleeding profusely. Morrigan stood guard, using what strength she had to erect a barrier between the ogre and the mages, but even Brielle knew that she could not hold long. From behind her, Leliana darted across the battlefield to her fallen lover, blue eyes blazing with fire and tears. She drew the attention of the ogre, which threw its fist at the bard in a mindless rage, and she managed to stop short, before it could hit her, grazing its knuckles with her blades. The creature hissed, pulling back its hand as ichor oozed from its knuckles, and it bared its monstrous teeth at Leliana, winding up for another assaut.

"Fool!" cried Morrigan, glancing back at Surana, who was unconscious on the ground behind her. "It will not be me who cries when that monster  _ kills _ you, and I do not wish to be on the receiving end of Surana's grief!"

Leliana ignored her, darting between the ogre's legs, driving a dagger into its thigh before pushing herself through Morrigan's barrier, skidding to her knees beside Surana. The ogre howled, wrenching the dagger from its leg, turning on its heel to face Leliana, Morrigan, and Surana, rearing its head to loose a roar that shook the ground. 

"They're going to get themselves killed," Loghain growled to Brielle, repositioning his shield in preparation for an attack. "We need to--"

He was unable to finish his statement. Brielle launched herself toward the ogre, her blades flashing dangerously as she quickly approached. The ogre's back faced her, and it was quite distracted with the women on the other side of Morrigan's barrier. Whether it was intended or not, it provided the perfect distraction for Brielle when she launched herself into the air, driving her blades into the creature's back. It shrieked, swinging itself about, awkwardly reaching it's back to try and pull Brielle off. She held on with all the strength she could muster, and she pulled a dagger out of it's back before driving it back in further up, pulling herself to its shoulders.

She was successful in pulling the ogre away from Morrigan's barrier, but soon it flailed about, throwing its arms every way it could with intentions of catching her allies off guard. Those who had stayed with Brielle were forced to scatter as the ogre came straight at them, and she managed to prop herself upright on the ogre's shoulders, using its horns as handlebars when she pulled herself to her feet. Driving her heels into its muscle, she yanked on its horns and pulled its head to the left, throwing off its path. It stumbled, narrowly avoiding Loghain and Zevran, who stood side by side with their weapons drawn, though it clipped the former, the ogre's hand catching Loghain's shield. He was jerked forward, but managed to pull it back before the ogre could take it completely. 

Between holding up the barrier and launching attacks at the ogre's face, Morrigan was quickly growing fatigued, and from her thrashing place on the ogre's back, Brielle thought quickly. This creature was not going down without a fight, and she would see to it that it got what it wanted. She held onto the horns for dear life, unable to reach even one of her daggers, and the creature continued its rampage, reaching for anything and everything it could use for an attack.

"Sten, Oghren!" she called, nearly losing her footing when the ogre came to a sudden halt. The qunari and dwarf looked up at her, awaiting her orders. "The legs! Get its legs!"

She saw Sten only nod briefly before the ogre jerked away, jostling her about. Clenching her teeth, she wrenched the ogres head backward, forcing a grunt out of it when it's onslaught was momentarily halted. Peanut barked, soon joining the fray, Zevran on his heels as they attacked the creature from behind. Howling rage echoed in the air, causing Brielle's ears to ring at her close proximity, and the ogre reared, tossing Brielle around as though she were nothing more than a rag doll. Nevertheless, she persisted, and kept her grip firmly on the ogre's horns, becoming more of a nuisance the longer she held. However, as distracted as it might have been by her presence, the hacking at its legs caused far more than she ever could. Even Wynne joined in, using her magic to throw daggers at the creature, all the while creating a barrier between it and the rest of the group. As a pale blue light settled around Brielle, she felt invigorated, taking a chance at grabbing one of the daggers before the ogre could throw her off.

Seeing what she did from below, Loghain brandished his weapon, the blade glinting where darkspawn gore did not cover it. He launched himself directly into the fray, knocking the ogre's arm aside with his shield as it came directly at his head. With a well placed step, he twisted around, narrowly avoiding a second swipe, and Loghain placed himself in the hollow directly beneath the ogre. Without a second thought, he drove his blade directly upward, piercing the creature's chest with a terrible crunch. It howled in agony, jerking backward and taking the sword from Loghain's hand before he could pull back, but as though anticipating his actions, Sten and Oghren shoved their blades into the ogre's now exposed belly, rending open the flesh with ferocious swipes. 

The ogre teetered dangerously, and Brielle could feel its life slowly fading before her. She now had one dagger in hand, but she struggled to get the second, now was the creature fell slowly backward. Hand gripping the ogre's horn tightly, it was all she could do to not panic as the creature was well on its way to crushing her beneath its weight, should she not get out of the way in time. Clenching her jaw, she used all the strength she could muster to propel herself upward, around the ogre's head, its yellowed fangs bared in a pained grimace. It reeked terribly as she navigated around its head, catching sight of Loghain's sword as they fell through the air. Praying to the Creators her plan would work, she yanked the weapon out of its chest, pushing off the ogre as hard as she could. She twisted in the air, brandishing the sword, and ran it through the creature's neck, rending its head from its shoulders in a single, fluid movement. Ichor splattered across her face, and the ogre's head flew off, rolling a few feet on the ground before coming to a halt in front of Morrigan's barrier. Brielle and the body, however, came crashing down, and she had to dive, sword in hand, and roll to prevent further injury. When she came to a stop, she was sitting on the ground with her back to her companions, covered in gore and weapon laying flush against the grass. Her lip bled from when she bit it upon hitting the ground, and she was pretty bruised from the fight, but was otherwise unharmed. 

From behind her, Loghain approached, concern marring his features, while the rest assessed their injuries, though none were threatening. He crouched next to her, and when she looked at him, his eyes swept over her face, searching for any injury she overlooked, either out of unimportance or the adrenaline that still rushed through them all. There was a trickle of blood that ran from her split lip, and a bruise that quickly formed on her cheek, but as far as he could tell for the moment, she was relatively well.

"You're bleeding." He swiped his thumb against her lip, the touch of his fingers against her neck not lost to her, but Brielle was still, her eyes fixed on Loghain as he continued to look her over. It was a few seconds before he finally looked at her, and he blinked at the wily grin that quickly spread across her face.

"What?"

"You're bleeding, too," she said simply, removing his hand from her face. Indeed, there was a gash across his cheekbone that dripped down his face, trickles of blood falling from his jaw to splash to the ground. Somewhere in his hairline must have had a cut as well, for a line of blood got caught in his eyebrow as it flowed down his skin.

He laughed, though it was more of a silent huff through his nose, and he held out his hand to Brielle, lifting her to her feet when she took it. When they were upright, he absentmindedly brushed the filth off her shoulders, and Brielle winced, the muscle in her thigh protesting the exertion. She rubbed it, kneading the area with her knuckles, and realized as the adrenaline wore off that she might have pulled something when she jumped on the ogre.

She swore in elvish, a grimace marring her features when she straightened back up, peering into Loghain's curious, but otherwise concerned, expression. "I messed something up," she admitted, shifting her weight to her good leg, brushing aside his hand. "I'll be fine, though; it's Surana I'm worried about." She tugged at his arm, limping quickly to where Leliana knelt with Surana in her lap, the latter delirious, but alive. Brielle knelt beside them, taking her friend's hand; she was still warm, feverish if she was being truthful. She didn't know the consequence of blood magic, but if a fever was one, it wouldn't be surprising. Regardless, she brushed aside the hair that was plastered to Surana's sweaty brow, her own furrowing. 

"She's in no state to travel," Brielle said grimly. "We make camp here. Those of us who aren't injured, clear out the dead darkspawn." She paused, looking at Wynne. "Stay here with Surana and Leliana and see what you can do, please."

Wynne nodded, settling herself beside Surana, immediately beginning to heal her, despite her own weariness. Brielle rose to her feet, running a hand over her face.  _ Just a few more days, and it's all over.  _

\------

Evening came quickly, and their makeshift camp was steadily coming along. Several tents were pitched, Surana in one of them, resting. Luckily, Wynne was able to break her fever, but her weakness would only go away with food and rest. They let her be, except to bring her a meal, but otherwise, she was too exhausted to even move. Blood magic was a hell of a drug, and honestly, Brielle was thankful she wasn't a mage; she couldn't imagine the fun she'd have, playing around with blood magic, and the effects that would come crashing down on her from her experimentation.

When the majority of darkspawn were cleared away, thrown into a pile to burn, Brielle and Loghain scouted the area for any creatures that might have fallen behind the main group of darkspawn, but as far as they could tell, they killed everything in the immediate area. After that, they searched for a source of fresh water, which they found, about a mile away from the camp. While everyone continued to settle, they busied themselves with bringing back enough water for not only their dinner, but to fill their skins as well. Of course, it took longer than they intended; they dawdled, whether intentionally or not, it could not be said, but they spoken fondly with one another, having grown closer, even since leaving Redcliffe.

When they finally returned for the night, Zevran busied himself with skinning several rabbits he caught, blood coating his hands, while Sten stoked the fire he built in the center of camp. Brielle and Loghain dragged themselves toward the fire, water in tow, their shoulders slouched from exhaustion. It was a moment before they settled in, placing a makeshift stand over the fire to boil some water for a stew, and Brielle began chopping up some wild herbs she found on the way to Denerim, Loghain sitting comfortably beside her.

Leliana was nowhere to be seen, though the quiet sound of her voice drifted from Surana's tent. Brielle imagined the bard hadn't left her side since the battle, and she smiled to herself, happy that Surana and Leliana found each other, even in the darkest of times as the threat of a Blight loomed over them. She shifted in her seat, feeling Loghain's arm brush against hers. Though her eyes and hands were fixed on the herbs she prepared, a small part of her-a hopeful part-wondered if she could have the same. It would be a lie to admit that it  _ wasn _ 't of Loghain she thought when the idea popped into her head, and she unconsciously shifted closer to him, tearing apart leaves, comforted but even the smallest feel of him against her. She was unaware of how Zevran watched them from the other side of the fire, his eyes glimmering in mirth, the reflection of the flames in his eyes casting them aglow.

"Ehm, Loghain? Warden Loghain? Or perhaps teryn...how  _ should _ I address you?"

Loghain raised a brow, eyeing Zevran skeptically. "Address me as you would any Warden. I am no longer a teryn, and no longer fitting of the title."

"So, Loghain, then?"

"Just Loghain."

Zevran grinned. "Well, then, Loghain. I do not know if you remember me at all, but I am the Crow Rendon Howe hired to assassinate Brielle for you. Perhaps that rings a bell?"

Recognition dawned on Loghain's face, and he glanced at Brielle apologetically, before returning his gaze to Zevran, expression stony once more. "I see. I wondered why you looked so familiar, but I suppose the truth is out now."

"Indeed," Zevran said, shrugging nonchalantly. "I'm sure you're quite happy to see that I have failed in my mission," he continued, speaking as though he was merely commenting on the weather. "Brielle does have a knack of recruiting those who might harm her, including yours truly."

Loghain said nothing, his attention focused on the damages to his armor, and Brielle's hands fiddled together absentmindedly, watching as Zevran continued to butcher his catch. The silence lingered in the air for a good few minutes, nothing but the bubbling of the slowly boiling stew breaking the quiet. However, it wasn't long after that Zevran decided he wasn't quite happy with how silent it became. 

"If you ask me, and I note that no one has, I don't believe Brielle regrets her decision in the least. Now me? I was not thrilled to have him aboard, as many, if not all, of our companions did. Of course, it was not my decision, and as all the Wardens in Ferelden were  _ dead _ , adding Loghain could be beneficial. Still, it was good that you decided to have him along, Brielle. I don't think I've seen you smile as you have in the past two months than you had in an entire year."

Brielle froze, eyes widening, and she felt Loghain stiffen beside her, though he made no movement, nor looked away from his armor. She cleared her throat, clasping her hands together before adopting a more nonchalant expression, watching Zevran with narrowed eyes. 

"Care to elaborate?" she asked, though part of her wondered if it was a good idea, but what was said had been said, and there was no going back, no matter what Zevran declared. 

"Do not act so innocent, Brielle, you know exactly what I speak of."

Before she could respond, however, Loghain cleared his throat, shifting beside her as he rose wearily to his feet. His shoulder pressed against hers as he steadied himself, and she could feel her ears burn at Zevran's knowing expression, which had only grown more smug with each passing moment.

"I believe I'll take my leave for the night," he muttered, glancing at Brielle, though looked away quickly. "We still have a few days march ahead of us. "

She nodded, though not entirely happy about it, and waved a small goodbye to Loghain when he nodded at them both before departing. Brielle watched him leave, nose wrinkled, before turning her attention back to Zevran, whose grin only widened when she glared at him.

"You've scared him off," she accused, shifting into a more comfortable position, quite missing Loghain's presence beside her. She chanced a quick glance over her shoulder, disappointed to watch as he disappeared into his tent, before returning her attention to the company before her. "He was nearly about to have a civil conversation with you."

"My apologies, my dear," he said with a slight bow of his head, but Brielle could tell he didn't really mean it. The wily grin on his face was too telling. "Believe it or not, he seems to be a changed man, despite the short time he has been with us. Still a stoic bastard, of course, but he seems content and, dare I say,  _ reasonable _ , when you're around."

Brielle raised a brow, but said nothing, and Zevran laughed, continuing. "Deny it all you like, Brielle, but I think allowing Loghain to join the Wardens was beneficial to you both."

"Explain."

It was Zevran's turn to raise a brow, rolling his shoulders as he set what was left of the carcass aside. He took a moment to clean off his hands in a small bowl before drying them on his trousers, and grabbed a wineskin from his pack, taking a drink. 

"Well, first thing, I have  _ never _ seen your eyes light up like they do when you are together," he said, and Brielle immediately felt the tips of her sharp ears grow warm. "Perhaps I did, when you were with Alistair, but that was a different sort of shine. You were the best of friends, and though he knew you longer, I still knew you needed that sort of companionship. Even when you and I," he paused, smirking widely, "had our  _ passionate _ affairs, never once did you look at me like you look at Loghain."

Brielle opened her mouth to speak, but no words were spoken, and she closed it again, looking away. She couldn't help but to wonder how the others viewed her, now that Zevran was telling her this, and her fingers knitted together, twisting anxiously in their gloves. Was it that obvious? She honestly hadn't thought anything of it, but if Zevran could tell, could anyone else?

"Brielle," he said more seriously, pulling her gaze back to him. It was not often that she saw him without a grin, and now was one of those rare moments. She could, however, she the sincerity in his eyes, a kindness in his expression that helped ease the tension she didn't realize she was holding. 

"The point I'm trying to make is to let go of your fear. I've never seen two people dance around their feelings--or perhaps dance is not the right word? Spar seems more likely, with how often you do exactly that. Regardless, you avoid what looks you straight in the face. Since Tamlen's death, you closed yourself off to anything more than a friendship. You do know you  _ are  _ allowed to love again? Opening up to someone new does not mean you're kicking the memory of lost love to the dirt. You can't linger forever and forget to live."

Zevran called her out, and while he was kind about it, it still felt like a slap in the face. She rolled his words around in her head, recognizing the truth in what he said. She still held onto Tamlen like he might come back to her, and they could run away together and forget everything. She held onto him as though she hadn't driven a dagger into his heart, killing him within their very camp and ending what would have been an eternal torment at the hands of the darkspawn. He was gone, dead, and no amount of holding on was going to bring him back. It only held her from a life she could have, if she allowed it, and it was that that Zevran tried to convince her.

"The battle against the archdemon is days away," she said quietly. "We may not survive it."

"Then make the most of the time you might have, my dear," he said sagely. 

Brielle nodded, looking back at Loghain. He had since changed from his armor, sitting cross-legged in front of his tent as he worked on repairing the sleeve of his uniform. She watched only for a moment more, until he looked up from his work, meeting her eyes with what was only the smallest of smiles, and he looked away again, expression falling back into concentration, dark brows furrowed. 

Brielle looked back at Zevran, who raised a brow. "I can't tell you want to do, Brielle. But I can tell you what I think you should do, and that is to be happy."

She was silent for a moment, before offering him a smile. It wasn't grim or strained, but warm and sincere, and he could tell that he had gotten through to her. He bowed his head in humble triumph, before picking up a spoon to test the meat within the soon to be stew.

"Thank you, Zevran."

"Anytime, my dear friend."


	14. Chapter 14

The road to Denerim was oddly quiet the closer they drew to the city, and despite what her thoughts told her, Brielle's power as a Warden revealed the lack of darkspawn in the vicinity. She could vaguely feel the horde itself as Denerim approached, but other than that, the rest of the area was relatively silent. On occasion, they would pass a corpse or two, likely the product of infighting between the beasts, but nature already took hold as fungus and weeds grew slowly over the bodies. She didn't want to be so hopeful that she saw and heard of wildlife as they marched nearer, but every so often, a flash of color would interrupt the otherwise dull hues of Ferelden countryside, color a rarity to be found since the Blight began. 

They were half a day out when Brielle stopped her company to make camp, and despite some protest, she refused to change her mind. They could reach the gates just before nightfall, if they hurried, but that would leave them fatigued, and more prone to mistakes in battle, mistakes they could not afford. Furthermore, fighting into the night after a day's march could prove fatal to many of them; Wynne was looking frail, the spirit within her keeping her tethered to the plane of life. Surana was mostly recovered from the corpse golem from several days past, but knowing her as she did, Brielle was certain the mage would likely dive headfirst back into her practiced arts with little regard to her own well-being, if it meant keeping Ferelden safe from the archdemon. Oghren was hungover, but that was to be expected. Loghain, Sten, and Shale could handle the bulk of the fighting if they needed to. The three of them were formidable enough when they fought alone; the three of them together was something else entirely. 

Brielle pitched her tent in no time, Peanut diving within to immediately curl up beneath her blankets and furs. She couldn't blame him; he had done just as much fighting as the rest of them, and he had four sore paws from the march, as opposed to only two. Hearing him groan from below her bedding, she stuck her head within the tent for a moment, searching for him under the covers to give him a scratch. She was met with a wet nose that poked out from beneath a blanket, and soon thereafter, Peanut's tongue swept across Brielle's fingers, giving her a slobbery kiss. 

"Alright, you," she laughed, wiping her hand on her pants. "I'll let you be, just let me change into something more comfortable; I don't want to be in this armor any more than I have to."

Peanut barked, and the end of the blankets wiggled, his tail wagging happily. Though she wanted nothing more than to curl underneath the covers with her dog and snuggle the day away, she needed to prepare the rest for what was to come. Truthfully, they were well aware of what to expect, aside from the archdemon, but she still wanted to spend some time with those she traveled with for well over a year now. Without them, none of what she had done would have been possible. Brielle was one woman against an entire darkspawn horde; she would be lost without her friends.

Emerging from her tent, there was already a fire roaring at the center of the camp, and Surana, Leliana, Wynne, and Zevran busied themselves with the night’s meal. Surana’s head leaned against Leliana’s shoulder happily as the latter played a gentle tune on her lute, the melody carrying peacefully throughout the camp. Zevran gave Wynne a hard time as she tried to make due with what they had for supplies, and she grew increasingly frustrated in only the way Wynne could. With a chuckle, she seated herself between Wynne and Zevran, wedging herself as best as she could, if only to save Wynne from his wiles.

“You are  _ no _ fun, Brielle,” he huffed, leaning heavily against her shoulder, now that Wynne was out of reach. “I was just helping our lovely mage friend, you know.” Brielle glanced at him skeptically, rolling her eyes when he batted his lashed at her, and shoved him playfully away.

“We’ve had this talk before, Zev,” Brielle said, offering Wynne her help. She smiled, but shook her head, insisting she was fine on her own, now that Brielle had intercepted Zevran. “I am not the stick in the mud around here.”

“Fine,  _ fine _ , it’s Loghain, yes. But he hasn’t been around since he put up his tent, and you being the person who spends the most time with him out of anyone here, the title of ‘stick in the mud’ naturally falls to  _ you _ .” He rested his chin on her shoulder, lips curved into a knowing grin, and Brielle scoffed turning away.

“He does have a point, you know,” Surana said, her voice soft, as though entranced by Leliana’s music. Her eyes were closed, and there was a gentle smile across her face as her hand traced circles on Leliana’s thigh. “You’re still easier to get along with, though.”

Brielle pursed her lips, looking unimpressed. “You don’t say,” she said, albeit sarcastically, and she heard Surana snort at the annoyed lilt in Brielle’s voice.

“Behave, you two,” Wynne warned from her dinner preparations when Zevran snickered. “She  _ is _ the Senior Warden here, after all, and it’s her command we’ll be following tomorrow when we get to Denerim. Best to be on her good side, don’t you think?”

Brielle was a bit surprised to hear Wynne defend her; she made her dislike of Loghain abundantly clear, and her warnings to Brielle were several times a week, if not daily, especially as they grew closer. But maybe this was her way of saying she accepted his presence within their company, however begrudgingly, but she would take it as it was. Regardless, she was thankful for her intervention, and Brielle picked up one of the metal utensils at their feet, prodding the fire to make better use of the wood as it slowly burnt to ashes. 

"I know the majority of us are not, ahem, fond of Loghain," Wynne said, throwing several herbs into the bubbling water, "but he has proven his worth in battle, if anything."

"I thought my ears burning was just a coincidence, but it appears now that I was mistaken." 

From behind Brielle and Zevran, Loghain stalked forward, a crease deepening between his brow as he frowned. He looked no happier than he ever did, but there was a glint in his eye when he saw Brielle. He wasn't dressed in his Warden armor, nor did he wear simple clothes like the rest of them. Instead, he donned dark black leathers, with his blade strapped across his back in the event of a surprise attack. 

"Ah, Loghain!" Zevran exclaimed, a grin quickly spreading across his face. "We were just talking about you; come, have a seat." He slid from where he sat, making an obvious hole between he and Brielle, and waggled his eyebrows when she shot him a glare. Loghain was unimpressed, and remained standing, his arms folded across his chest in annoyance. 

"I hadn't noticed," he said flatly, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "But I think I'll pass on your offer. I'm here for Brielle, anyway."

Zevran’s eyes quickly shot to her, but Brielle ignored it, raising a brow as she looked at Loghain. Whatever annoyance was glinting in his icy eyes was replaced the moment their eyes met, and while there was not much she could do to pull the attention away from him, she could at least  _ try _ to change the subject. "Is something wrong? Is there darkspawn around?"

He shook his head, pursing his lips. "No, but it's something you need to see." She could tell he was growing uncomfortable the longer he stood there, and the insistent lilt in his voice drew from her a suspicious glance. Brielle could feel Zevran's eyes upon her, and she pointedly ignored him.

"Alright,  _ alright _ ," she said, grunting as she rose. "I'm coming." She stepped over her seat, absentmindedly running a hand through her hair, and when Zevran cleared his throat, she paused, shooting him an inquisitive glance.

“Remember what I told you, my dear. Don’t shy away.”

Her eyes narrowed, and she turned away, quickly brushing past Loghain, though she did not know exactly where they were going. Regardless, he caught up quickly, one long stride easily matching two of her paces. It did not go unnoticed that she avoided his gaze, and though he did not press her further regarding what Zevran said, he placed a hand on her shoulder, slowing down her progress until they came to a halt, right outside the camp.

“You’re going the wrong way, Brielle,” he said, taking her hand, without really thinking about what he was doing. “This way.”

She didn’t have time to respond when he tugged her along, the pair of them taking a brisk pace as they entered a darkened path that led deep within a wooded area, the trail barely visible, even in the midday light. As they walked, Brielle couldn’t help but to watch him oddly, her racing of her heart almost painful against her chest. Had she been told, a year ago, that this is where she would find herself days before the archdemon’s demise (or so she hoped), she would have laughed and run off to her clan at a moment’s notice. But now, she felt at peace, or at least as much peace as she could feel during the end of a war, and to think it was with Loghain that she shared this peace?

The last year had been a wild ride.

They did not speak as the continued on, and Brielle was soon becoming skeptical that there actually was anything he wanted her to see. Of course, Loghain appeared to know exactly where he was going, and it was for that reason she did not question him in the first place. However, a wry smile curved her lips, and she tugged her hand back, stealing it back from Loghain’s grip. He stopped suddenly, realizing what she had done, and turned back to look at her, his brows furrowed as though he might have done something wrong. When he saw the look on Brielle’s face, though, he sighed deeply, knowing exactly where this was going.

“I almost regret to ask,” he said, turning back to the path ahead. He studied the ground below their feet for but a moment before addressing Brielle again. “But is there a  _ reason _ you’ve stopped us?”

“You’re not finally exacting your revenge on me, are you, Loghain?” she asked, struggling to keep her face straight and the humor out of her voice. “Is the big, bad teryn finally going to do in the Grey Warden who defeated him in front of the entirety of Ferelden nobility?”

To her surprise, he snorted, rolling his eyes in amusement. “Perish the thought, Brielle,” he growled, giving her a flat glance. “And kill the only person in this damned crusade who gives me the time of day? I don’t think so.”

He held out his hand to her again so they continued onward, and when she took it, their pace sped up again. However, Loghain hushed her, taking the trail as quietly as he could; Brielle would have had cause for alarm, had she felt darkspawn in the area, but her senses were completely bare. Not only that, but Loghain seemed perfectly relaxed, the blade across his back untouched and forgotten, leading her to believe that not only was this something she needed to see, but it was something good, something he  _ wanted _ her to see. Perhaps it was wishful thinking, but the mere thought sent her stomach through a whirl.

“Then will you tell me what’s going on?” she asked, unable to mask the concern in her voice, regardless of how she truly felt. “It’s odd that you’re so insistent on keeping this a secret, Loghain, unless--”

He suddenly halted, Brielle running straight into his back. When she caught her footing and balanced herself, he placed a hand on her shoulder, bringing the other to his lips as he shushed her, and slowly, he reached toward the brush that barred their way forward, pushing aside the branches that blocked the path.

“I don’t--” Brielle began, but the moment the rest of the path came into view, she clasped her hands to her mouth in stunned silence. The path opened into a small glen, miraculously untouched by the Blight, or those who would seize the land for their own in the dark war times. There was a greenery she had not seen since she was with her clan, but what took her breath away were the creatures within, standing gracefully at the center of the glade.

Dozens of halla grazed happily, their stark white coats gleaming in the sun that broke through the canopy. Her feet led her forward before Brielle even had time to think, drawn to the creatures she had so missed from home. Dark, intelligent eyes watched her as she entered their midst, but the halla did not falter, sensing her as a friend to their kind, rather than someone who would do them harm. Loghain remained back, leaning against a tree as Brielle all but stumbled toward the center, and he watched the scene unfold before him, a lopsided grin curving his features.

Brielle approached a doe who nursed two fawns, holding out her hand for the creature to smell before moving further. It blinked, blearily, at her, and the end of its soft muzzle brushed against her palm. She felt goosebumps as the halla accepted her, and she soon ran her hand down the length of the creature’s snout, taking in the sensations she had not felt for so long.

The halla’s fawns poked their heads up from around their mother, approaching Brielle curiously. She fell to her knees to get on their level, allowing them to approach her at their own pace, careful not to spook them in any way. They were as curious as their mother, and by extension, the rest of the herd, which slowly circled around the elf, recognizing her as one of the forest who cared for their own.

Soft snouts were soon upon her, smelling her, nuzzling her, and one going so far as to licking her cheek, like she was a part of the herd the entire time. She soon found herself running her hands along their soft fur, her brow pressed against theirs when they allowed, and it took all that she had not to burst into tears right then and there. She felt such a longing homesickness that it only then occurred to her how much she truly missed the halla.

It went on like this for half an hour or so, until she finally rose to her feet, searching out Loghain in the perimeter of the glade. He stood in the shade, arms folded as he watched her, and Brielle waded through the herd of halla that surrounded her, her eyes bright, brimming with tears that threatened to spill over. Regardless, she bit them back, hooking her hand around his elbow, dragging him into the glen alongside her.

“This is what you wanted to show me?” she said, her voice cracking. “Halla?”

He nodded curtly, looking somewhat uncomfortable at the prospect of being brought into the midst of such graceful creatures. They gave he and Brielle a wide berth when she dragged him to where she had sat not moments before, and the halla eyed the pair curiously, slowly gravitating toward Brielle again.

“You said you missed them,” he said simply, following suit when Brielle sat cross-legged on the ground. “I didn’t expect to find any in the middle of the forest during a Blight, naturally, but when I scouted the area after making camp, I stumbled upon this herd, completely by accident.”

The two young halla approached Brielle and Loghain, one of the two making itself comfortable on Brielle’s lap. She stroked its neck gently, and the creature twisted its head to rest on her shoulder, beady eyes shutting happily. The other stared at Loghain curiously, approaching him slowly to better smell him. 

“Hold out your hand,” Brielle instructed, as the fawns’ mother stuck her nose in Brielle’s ear. “Let it smell you, but don’t pet it until it seems like it’s ready. Let it come to you.”

Doing as he was told, the halla ran its nose along Loghain’s hand, forcing him to flip it over so it could smell the back. After a few minutes, it appeared pleased with him, though he still continued to heed Brielle’s words. A second later, it tucked its nose under his hand, nudging it as though asking for him to pet it.

“Is this the halla coming to me?” he asked uncertainly, and Brielle nodded, stroking the mother’s nose before she could sniff her ear again.

“Go ahead and pet it; it’ll let you come near.”

Loghain nodded, stroking the fawn’s muzzle, and Brielle suddenly found herself swarmed by halla again, noses of all shapes and sizes sniffing her ears, her hair, her face. She cried out in laughter as the fawn on her lap scooted itself as close to her as it possibly could, and for the first time in a long time, it felt like home.

“You remembered?” she asked softly, as some of the halla lost interest in her in favor of Loghain, who was very clearly  _ not _ Dalish. He looked so out of place among a half dozen, snow white creatures, but they were perfectly content to nibble on his clothes, his hair, and anything they could get their mouths on. The baby in Brielle's lap was sound asleep by now, and nostalgia hit her like a ton of bricks.

"Of course I did," Loghain grunted, as the other fawn toppled over him, still clumsy on its hooves. "It's not something easily forgotten, especially after the maps."

He gave her a look, which Brielle returned with a smile, one of the truest he had yet seen on her. Their eyes were locked, even through the creatures that settled themselves around them in a comfortable circle, and Brielle had half a mind to force her way through the halla and topple him to the ground herself, but she would loathe to disturb the fawns that settled sleepily on their laps. Instead, they fell into a comfortable silence, the halla dozing peacefully around them. She wasn't sure how long they sat together without a word, but the peace in the glen was something Brielle had long since needed, away from the trouble and turmoil of the world around them. 

After a while, Loghain cleared his throat, breaking the silence. There was a distinct discomfort in his expression, and every so often, he would look at Brielle, before glancing away quickly, his features hardening into their customary scowl. She didn't press him, but Brielle could tell he wanted to speak, and she stroked the baby halla in her lap, waiting patiently for him to find his words. 

"When you first conscripted me," he began, his voice forced, as those speaking of anything else was preferable. "I wanted nothing to do with the Order. The Ferelden Wardens were dead; who was to say this wasn't Orlais' opportunity to take back what was lost, years ago."

Brielle raised a brow when he looked at her, hearing the concern in his voice at the truth he spoke. She knew it wasn't the first time Orlais had used the cover of a Blight to invade, so she honestly couldn't blame him, but she had a feeling that was not all this was about. 

"Death was preferable, but I was at your mercy, and maybe it was a cruel trick of fate then, but it would have me working for those who I thought were going to tear apart my country. But I was...mistaken."

He paused as the halla on his lap stirred, blinking sleepily at him before shifting itself in his lap, curling into a ball. Loghain rested his hand on its back, gently stroking its fur. 

"I suppose you gave me a chance to fix what I destroyed," he said, eyes fixed on the halla. "No doubt Anora is thankful you decided to spare me, and as I travel with you, I am as well." He paused, looking at Brielle finally, with something akin to fondness dancing in icy blue eyes. "I did not think to find friendship in the Wardens, nor…"

He abruptly stopped himself, shaking his head as though whatever he was about to say would be foolish, even for him, after all he had done. Regardless, he gathered himself, finding his words again.

"I need to begin with the alienage in Denerim," he finally said, drawing surprise from Brielle. "They are who suffered most by what I've done."

"They'll destroy you, you know that?" Brielle finally said, her voice carrying a warning that he had not expected. Her features hardened, as they did whenever his crimes in the alienage were brought up, and her glare was icy, far different than the look she normally had reserved for him. 

"Nothing less than I deserve, I suppose," he admitted, looking away. "That stain never fully disappears, but I can try and make it right."

Brielle was silent, watching him closely. He seemed sincere enough in his words, but to be able to atone without the city elves tearing him apart, as he rightfully deserved, would be a miracle, and make his quest to atonement more difficult than he thought. Even if Loghain did defend himself, it would still reflect poorly on him, and likely undo any good he was trying to do. 

"How do you intend to help the city elves, Loghain?" she asked. There was still a bite to her voice, but it was a great deal gentler than it was before. Still, it was enough to cause him pause, and it was a moment before he spoke again, taking in a deep, ragged breath.

"Given we survive this battle, helping restoration efforts in Denerim would be a start," he said simply. "Provided the Wardens don't call us away immediately, of course."

Brielle nodded. It was a start, and he was right about the Wardens, but it was still days before they knew what would happen altogether. Denerim was still half a day's march, and the darkspawn horde was something that needed to be defeated before they could even think about relief efforts. The future.

"I could come with you," Brielle said nonchalantly, averting her gaze to the halla. She felt her cheeks warm at the suggestion, and when she bowed her head, she was thankful that her hair masked her face from his searching eyes. She had not thought of a future beyond what was expected of her within the next few days, and to offer to travel with Loghain after the fact? It gave her some hope.

Loghain raised a brow. "This is my task, not yours," he impressed, pulling her from her thoughts. "You weren't the person who sent Ferelden into a downward spiral,  _ I _ was."

"I'm aware," she replied, twirling her fingers around the halla’s ear. "I'm not going to do this for you, Loghain, and that’s not what I was offering. This is _ your _ task, but I'm sure it would help to have someone there to, er,  _ smooth _ over tensions. Like I said, the city elves wouldn’t hesitate to tear you apart, considering what you’ve done, and having Anora interfere would likely set the elves against the Queen. Grey Warden or not, Anora is still your daughter, and she might extend her influence to keep you safe, which could be problematic.” She paused, running a hand through her hair. “I may not be from the city, but I’m still an elf, and to see me in your company may help you avoid…dismemberment."

"You have a point." He looked up, surprised to find her already looking at him, her deep blue eyes fixed unwavering upon his. Their ice melted away, replaced with the warmth of the summer skies, and Loghain soon found himself at a loss for words. Regardless, his lips lifted in a crooked grin and he shook his head sheepishly, staring at his hands.

“My head has been so far up my own ass, I haven’t seen what has been going on around me,” he continued, stroking the halla’s ear. “Becoming a Grey Warden has been a long-needed wake-up call. Thank you.”

Brielle nodded, biting her lip. Truth be told, she wasn’t sure what to say, and so they fell into a comfortable silence again, listening to the sounds of the resting halla around them. The comfort Brielle felt was something she had not felt in a very long time, and to think that Loghain contributed to it sent her thoughts through a whirl. Just a few short months ago, they were sworn enemies, hellbent on ending one another for the greater good of Ferelden, but now, they were something else entirely, and what exactly that was, Brielle couldn’t quite place. 

But it was home.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are some suggestive themes in this chapter. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Fire. Flames. Death.

Darkspawn overwhelmed her. Brielle was running, her legs screaming in protest as she pushed herself further. Her friends were gone, her companions dead, and she saw no end to the torment surrounding her. How could everything have gone so wrong? How did they miscalculate so much that Denerim was in complete ruins, the castle in disrepair, the streets covered in corpses. The darkspawn spared no one; men, women, and children littered the cobbled walkways, their lifeless faces twisted in final expressions of terror, mouths open in silent screams of help. It twisted Brielle's stomach, and she could only do so much to keep herself from being sick as she ran, knowing that the moment she stopped, she, too, would be overtaken and all of Ferelden would be lost. 

The archdemon roared overhead. The colossal dragon terrorized those who still lived, launching blighted flames at the towering structures that yet remained. They exploded in a cloud of broken stone and woodwork, showering the streets below in ashen clouds of debris and smoke. Brielle managed to slide past a weighty boulder that was once the outer wall of a guard tower, narrowly avoiding being crushed. The dust stung her eyes, and tears mixed with those she already spilled dripped down her marked cheeks, leaving a trail of dust in their wake. 

_ How could this have happened? _ she thought to herself, rounding another corner. The sound of the horde grew distant behind her, and she stupidly believed she might have a moment of respite. Her legs ached, her lungs burned, and her heart broke. Nothing had gone as planned, and she could only feel responsible for the destruction that raged on around her. Still, she continued, ignoring the agony that coursed through her body with every beat of her heart, until she rounded, running headlong into someone, knocking the wind out of her. 

She stumbled back, regaining her footing, and doubled over, trying to catch her breath. Her hands shook violently, and Brielle took a moment to gather herself before straightening again. However, when she saw who it was she ran into, her jaw dropped, eyes widening in disbelief and mild horror at the man before her. 

"It can't be... _ Tamlen _ ?"

As sure as the darkspawn raged around her, Tamlen stood before Brielle, his arms outstretched and beckoning her to him. Despite all her instincts telling her something was off, Brielle launched herself into his arms, breaking down completely. She sobbed into his shoulder, tears spilling thickly onto his armor, and he stroked her back gently, just as she always remembered. It was a comfort she hadn't felt in a long time, a familiarity that she so longed for. 

"It's okay, lethallin," he said, but Brielle could immediately tell something was off. His voice was distorted, as though trying to speak through water, and it changed, deepened and aged, just as the man she held onto did. Panic settled in her bones, and she pulled away, only to feel the sharp end of a blade pierce her back, driving itself deep within her flesh. She choked out, surprise coloring her features, and when she looked at the man who was once Tamlen, dread overtook her as she stared into the face of Loghain Mac Tir, blackened veins creeping across his skin, eyes milky white as the taint took him over. His face cracked into a feral grin, bearing a row of sharp, jagged teeth, and a voice that was clearly not his own rumbled in his chest. Brielle knew exactly to whom it belonged.

The archdemon roared a terrible laugh as Loghain's hand fixed at the back of her neck, keeping her weakening body in place. 

"You belong to  _ me _ ."

Brielle screamed, bolting upright. She was a tangled mess of blankets and limbs, and her skin was sticky, covered in a thin layer of sweat that refused to dry. Tears poured from her eyes and she felt hot, almost feverish; months had passed since her last darkspawn dream, and none of them quite shook her like this one did. At her feet, Peanut jolted awake at the sound of his companion's scream, and he was next to her in an instant, sweeping his tongue over her face to calm her. It helped for a moment, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her face in his fur as she sobbed. Try as she might to shake the image from her mind, there was nothing she could do to rid herself of the tainted image of Loghain that flickered before her closed eyes, and Brielle had to pull herself away from Peanut, running a hand along the dog's muzzle. 

"I'm sorry da'len," she croaked, surprised by how weak her voice sounded. "I need to get some air. Stay here; I don't want anyone else waking up on my account."

It almost looked like Peanut would not obey, but he whined, settling himself upon her blankets and looked at her sadly. She did not want to part from him, but she needed fresh air and solitude, and maybe even a wash down in the pool they camped next to. She felt disgusting, hot and sweaty, and no amount of laying in her blankets was going to help her cooldown. 

With a grunt, she rose, giving Peanut a final pat before leaving the tent, pulling her hair back into a sort of messy bun. Her bangs still stuck to her brow, and she was less than pleased at the state she was in, but considering the dream she had just awoken from, it was the last thing on her mind. 

It was so  _ real _ . Her Blighted dreams never terrified her as this one had, even when Tamlen made appearances in similar respects. Of course, he never looked as alive as he had this time around; it was as though neither of them had ever left the clan, never found the mirror. He felt warm and alive, and his hug was exactly like those she remembered so fondly. Even his smell was just as it always was. Of course, that was the archdemon's way of fucking with her, to keep her distracted so it could take the country with little to no fight. She couldn't let it be like that; while she never wanted to join the Wardens in the first place, to let Denerim fall to the darkspawn was to let her clan and family die to the enemy. 

Then there was Loghain. She couldn't deny her feelings anymore; in a few short months, he had become such a big part of her life that she would loath to think of it without him. Whether or not he felt the same way remained to be seen, and the practical part of her told her that it would be foolish to entertain such a thought. There wasn't time for love in war, and happiness came second to the good of the country, no matter what Zevran told her. 

Brielle sighed, closing her eyes as the cool breeze fluttered past her. Her sweat was now icy, and she grumbled that she left her tent without a cloak, but it was too late to go back now. She was already halfway to the pond, and going back meant falling asleep again, only to be tormented by the nightmares that plagued her unconscious mind. There was no guarantee that the dreams would return, of course, but with their goal so close, and the archdemon keeping tabs on their every movement, anything was possible. 

A cluster of boulders formed a natural barrier between the camp and the pond, granting privacy to whomever cared to use it for the moment. Brielle was thankful for that; she was relatively shorter than the rest of the group, with the exception of Oghren, and hiding would be no problem for her. She could be as silent as death when she wanted to, and would be easily looked over in the stillness of the night. The moon shone brightly above her as she padded silently through the camp, and a faint song danced in the air, sending a shiver down Brielle's spine. It was quiet, a haunted melody that both shook and soothed the leaves around them. Leliana, no doubt, was comforting Surana after having a dream of her own. The closer they came to Denerim, the more on edge they all became, most of all the Grey Wardens. Brielle was glad they had each other; they deserved nothing less.

Rounding the corner, Brielle froze when she came around the boulders, her chosen sanctuary already occupied. Though his back faced her, Brielle could recognize the back of Loghain's head even in the darkness. He dragged a towel across his face, and droplets of water traveled down his bare back in small streams, wetting the hem of his pants around his hips. Knotted muscle moved underneath heavily scarred skin, and Brielle caught herself staring, growing very hot in the face. She should leave, but her feet would not let her move, and Brielle found herself frozen in place, torn between running away and reaching out. She decided against touching him, however, and instead opted for something short and simple.

"Loghain?"

He stiffened in surprise, lowering the towel from his face. It was a moment before he said anything, but he glanced at her from over his shoulder, not quite meeting her eyes. 

"Nightmare?"

She hesitated. "Yes."

He sighed with a small nod, running the towel over his face once more before tossing it aside, onto a pile that was no doubt his shirt and smallclothes. Brielle wrapped her arms around herself, unable to look at him. She was afraid, truth be told. Afraid she might see the milkiness in his eyes that her dream had shown her, to see a man with the same face as the one she had grown so fond of, yet not be the same. She was afraid to hear Urthemiel's voice come from his mouth. 

"What did you see?" Loghain asked, in very much his own voice. Brielle hesitated again, still shaken from her visions, and she licked her lips, raising her eyes to his. She opened her mouth several times before closing it again, unable to speak. He accepted her silence, still rather shaken himself, and walked to the nearest boulder, leaning his weight heavily against it. Like Brielle, he was silent as well, though he gestured at the vacant area beside him, inviting her to rest. It only took her a moment to sit beside him, and despite her reservations, she leaned heavily against his arm, her head resting on his shoulder. Though he seemed unbothered, he looked at her when he knew she couldn't see him, a gentleness on his expression that he had not worn in years. 

"I saw Anora," he began, his voice uncharacteristically shakey. Brielle could only know where this would go. "She met the same fate as Cailan did, but…" He paused, taking a ragged breath, as though trying to steel himself through the memories. "The archdemon thought it best to display her upon Fort Drakon, to remind Ferelden of its  _ true _ ruler….the beast."

Brielle felt her stomach drop, but Loghain wasn't finished. "To think the bastard was done there was a foolish notion. The dream woke me, but I thought it was done there. It had shaken me enough, so why would it send more nightmares?" He paused, laughing bitterly. "When I dreamed next, it showed me  _ you _ ."

Brielle blinked, finally looking at him. " _ Me? _ " she said, and he nodded. "Why would it show you  _ me _ ?"

"To strike where it would hurt most, I expect," he replied, so casually that he might as well have spoken of the weather. 

She repeated his words in her head, and Brielle's heart leapt, though she tried to push the sensation away. He had not pushed her away when she sidled next to him, and if she were honest with herself, she could have sworn that he leaned into the contact just as she had. 

"I suppose you were cooling off then," she said, her voice cracking. She hid her face when she heard how vulnerable she sounded. "The pond."

"Yes."

"Then we had the same idea," she continued. "The archdemon showed me the deaths of our companions. It showed me Tamlen. He looked so real, felt so real. It knew exactly where to strike." She hesitated, wondering if she should continue, but hearing Loghain dream of her…well, the answer was obvious. 

"He turned into you, but the taint had taken hold. You weren't you, and it was terrifying. You--" Her voice caught in her throat, and she choked out a sob, feeling tears well up in her eyes. "You killed me. Stabbed me in the back, and when you spoke, it was the archdemon I heard. That's when I woke up."

They did not speak, the only sound to break the silence was the gentle chirp of crickets in the forest surrounding them. Brielle felt tears slide her down her face, and she sniffled, hastily wiping them away before Loghain noticed. She was  _ so  _ tired of what life threw her way. What she wouldn't give for a moment of respite, a moment of happiness. More happened in the last year than her previous 25, and she felt as though it were far from over. Still, it gave her comfort to know she wasn't alone. 

"Did it work then?"

Loghain looked at her. "Did what work?"

"Did it strike where it hurt most?"

He regarded her curiously for a moment, brows knitting together. Within her eyes, he saw a deep sadness, but also a light that shone any time she looked upon him. Whether she searched for her own answers, he did not know, but perhaps it was now time to confront his own feelings that he had buried away, far beneath his cold and stoic exterior. Brielle was a comfort to him, and she had been for a while now, and he loathed to be parted from her.

" _ Yes _ ."

Her surprise was matched only by his own. A flurry of expression crossed her features at his admission, from pain, to confusion, and finally to a bright smile that was both relieved and hesitant at the same time.  _ Maker _ , was she pretty when she smiled, and to see one like the one she wore was breathtaking. She was pretty, regardless, but there was a whole new aspect to her, her face illuminated in the moon's silver light, her eyes glowing brightly as they bore into his very soul.

And they came together as one. Loghain slipped his arm around Brielle's waist when she came to him, standing on her toes so that she could reach what she so desperately longed for. Her lips captured his in a tender kiss, her arms wrapping around his shoulders as she pressed flush against his chest. His hands wandered the curves of her waist as he held her tightly to him, the sensation of her body against his sending his mind through a whirl. 

Her lips moved gracefully against Loghain's, with a softness he had not felt in years. It was alien, almost, and the tenderness she allotted every brush of her lips against his sent a shiver down his spine. Her hands moved across his back, trailing up his neck to entangle her fingers in his dark hair. Her nails dragged gently against his scalp, and he moaned into the kiss, leaning her backward against the boulder that now supported her weight entirely. It was a complete surprise that she seemed almost eager to have him like this, but nothing could have stunned him more than when he felt her hips grind against his, teasing him most unkindly. 

Loghain froze and Brielle chuckled, breaking the kiss for a breath of air. She bit his lip, tugging on it lightly before pulling away, within her expression a fervor that he had not seen. Her eyes half closed lazily as she ran the tip of her nose against his, and Loghain shivered, his fingers digging into her flesh as his hands dropped to her hips. 

"You're such a tease," he said, his voice uncharacteristically husky, watching her through half-lidded eyes. 

Brielle grinned wryly, interlocking her fingers behind his neck and tugged him down to her height. She stood on her toes, lips hovering at his jaw, right below his ear. "The one and only," she purred, nipping the lobe with playful delight, enthralled when she felt him react almost instantly. 

With a growl, he lifted her roughly, fingers digging into her thighs. He kissed her again, laying her down on the boulder behind her, but this time, he trailed along her jaw and to her neck, teeth grazing against the sensitive flesh. Brielle shivered, wrapping her legs around his waist, and brought him closer to her, arching her back to press her chest against his, longing for his touch. There was little else she thought of than her limbs tangled around his, her fingers twisted in his hair as his calloused palms ran along her skin. His hand slipped under her shirt, and Brielle locked her fingers in his dark tresses, pulling his head back so that she could look at him as she pleased. 

"What ever will  _ they _ say?" Brielle chided, a dangerous grin spreading across her face when he cupped her breast, his eyes burning with desire. Her fingers loosened their grip, and she slid her hands to his face, tracing lines against his jaw, feeling the prickle of unshaven stubble against her skin. Her touch drew him back to her, and he placed a kiss to her lips, deep and passionate, impressing each unsaid emotion into the simple gesture. She sighed happily, pressing her brow to his when his hand moved again, wrapping around her chest to hold her close. It was a moment before they broke apart, yet they did not untangle from each other's embrace, as though the fate of the world depended on their touch. 

"The big, bad teryn succeeded in tainting the sweet, innocent warden," she murmured with a soft laugh, her thumbs still tracing his face. "The  _ scandal _ ."

He huffed, gracing her lips with another soft kiss. "Indeed," he replied, eyes closed and savoring her touch. "Though I would be inclined to say it was the other way around. After all, you  _ could _ have killed me, but instead, the taint runs through me as surely as it runs through you."

Brielle was silent, suddenly remembering the world around them. They were Grey Wardens, and a Blight raged on around them. Tomorrow, they would face down an ancient enemy, the fate of the world in their hands, the threat of death looming over their heads. Suddenly, her hands met Loghain's chest, pressing against him gently, and he obliged her, straightening up. He did not let her go, however, nor did Brielle want him to; the moment they were both upright, she tucked her head under his chin, her cheek pressed against his chest. Tears threatened to spill over, and she cursed herself for her weakness, but she supposed it couldn't be helped. She pined for Loghain for Creators knew how long, and it was the first time she allowed herself to open her heart after Tamlen's death. She felt happiness in how he held her now, how his hand ran along her back in a comforting way, the safety she felt as his strong arms wrapped around her. But she could not shake the looming shadow of the archdemon overhead, the certainty that someone would  _ die _ to destroy it. Riordan assured them it would be him, but fate told Brielle that happiness would not be afforded to her.

"Something is troubling you," Loghain said. It was not a question. 

"Something is always troubling me," Brielle replied thickly, clearing her throat to hide a sniffle. 

"Brielle."

She knew that he could see right through her, and Brielle sighed, drawing circles against his chest.

"I have a terrible feeling something is going to happen tomorrow," she said quietly. "Something bad. And I--" Her voice caught in her throat, tears spilling down her face. "I can't do it. I can't lose you. I can't deal with this again."

Loghain pulled her back, looking at her sadly. She was distraught, and he gently wiped away a tear, pressing his lips to her brow. He would take her sorrow and fear from her if he could; to see her like this, now that everything laid bare between them, wrenched at his very soul. But they had a duty to perform. He knew that. She knew that. And as two of the three remaining Grey Wardens in Ferelden, it was them who had to see it through. Still, he was a selfish man sometimes, and letting her go was not an option, but he saw little else they could do. 

_ In death, sacrifice.  _

"I will fight by your side until the demon falls," he said, speaking gently into her hair. It was soft, smelled lightly of the forest, and he nearly lost himself within it. It reminded him of a time long since passed, a safe place for him to hide when destruction threatened the world. He loathed to never run his hands through it again, and yet fate was a cruel mistress, dangling happiness before them, only to snatch it away the moment they acted upon it. 

Brielle sniffled, raising her eyes to his. "I hope we don't fall with it," she murmured, her thumb brushing along his lower lip. "It's a small hope, but it's there." She paused, bowing her head again. "We should sleep, it's late and tomorrow--"

She couldn't continue, and instead stood on her toes, pressing a light kiss against his lips. "After the battle, we can...we can speak more."

And she slipped from his arms, her hand lingering on his face for a moment before leaving entirely. She rushed off, arms wrapped around herself, her tears spilling freely. The one time Brielle allowed herself happiness was the night before her death. Perhaps it wasn't meant to be, or perhaps she was just being negative, but regardless, the Creators had other things in store for Brielle than to enjoy the short life she was given. She cursed in elvhen, hastily wiping away the tears that gave her away. She could run; she could run far away where no one could find her, but her conscious would never let her rest, knowing she abandoned her friends.

"'Tis the eve of battle, and Brielle Mahariel flees, uncertain as to what the future holds."

Though not startled by Morrigan's voice, she did not expect the mage to be lurking at the edge of the forest, bright yellow eyes fixed curiously upon her. She leaned against the trunk of a towering oak, arms folded across her chest, a most peculiar expression resting on her face. Her eyes were alight with magic, contemplating the woman who stood before her, and Brielle approached, curious as to what it was she had to say.

"It's not like you to linger about, Morrigan," Brielle said, her eyes narrowed. "Unless you have some ancient knowledge to impart."

Morrigan laughed harshly, shaking her head. "I am afraid not, my friend, but I do have a proposal. Walk with me." She inclined her head deeper into the forest, and they began their journey, separating themselves from the camp and eavesdropping ears. Brielle was apprehensive as to what it was Morrigan was to offer, but she knew that the mage would not hurt her. They had become friends over their journeys, and knew they could have each others backs when the occasion called for it, and she vaguely wondered if this is exactly what Morrigan offered. 

"Do you know  _ why  _ Flemeth sent me with you?" she asked, carefully navigating through the thick underbrush. She glanced at Brielle, nothing her puffy cheeks and reddened eyes. 

"I imagine your powers could help me with the Blight," she answered simply. "Working together for a common goal."

Morrigan nodded. "That was what I, too, believed, but it is not so." She took a turn down a slightly narrower path, leading into a small hollow, which was private enough. "Flemeth is many things, Brielle, but she knows things, and such knowledge she passed on to me. I  _ know _ what happens to a Grey Warden when they slay an archdemon."

Brielle narrowed her eyes, clearly unhappy with the revelation. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"There was no need...for the moment," Morrigan stated simply. "However, now is a different case, and this is where I lay my proposal." Her eyes glowed bright as a wave of magical energy encircled she and Brielle, creating an impenetrable barrier around them. When she gave Morrigan a questioning look, she merely shrugged impatiently with a curl of her lip, saying, "A precaution."

After inspecting the barrier, she focused on Brielle again, her expression quite serious. "I offer a way  _ out _ ," she said, eyes glimmering. "A ritual, performed in the dead of night, on the eve of battle."

"What sort of ritual?" Brielle pressed, narrowed eyes boring into Morrigan's. "I want to know what I'm agreeing to."

"Naturally. The Old God's soul searches for the next tainted body to be reborn, and continue on its life cycle, yes? However, the soul of a child infected with the taint would shine like a beacon to it; the soul would be absorbed with no harm to the child, nor the Warden who kills the creature's body."

Brielle frowned. "A child? That means…"

"Yes, to conceive a child with the taint means to lay with a Grey Warden. No doubt I would ask you to convince Loghain, but I will not pretend that I did not see your exchange not 10 minutes ago."

Brielle felt her face grow warm, and she looked away. "What manner of magic is this, Morrigan?"

She considered the question briefly. "I am certain you already know the answer, my friend. Blood magic."

Brielle was no mage, but she knew enough about blood magic, thanks to Surana's willingness to show her. She knew what could come of such a magic, and if she wasn't mistaken, perhaps this ritual need not involve Loghain at all.

"Could I do this?" she asked. "While naturally, I couldn't give you a child, blood magic could…"

Morrigan's features brightened. "Now that is a thought," she said, tapping her chin lightly. "What say you, Brielle? Lay with me tonight, and together we can conceive a child to save not only you, but your...ehm,  _ Loghain _ , from certain doom."

Brielle hesitated for only a moment, thinking of the kiss she shared with him not long before. If this ritual could give them a chance at a life together, then there was no doubt in her mind as to what she had to do. 

"Where do we begin?"


	16. Chapter 16

The ritual of the previous night still weighed on Brielle's mind; her body felt odd, changed by blood magic, but she could not place what it was that Morrigan’s magic changed. A once-over the next morning showed her that nothing was physically different, and yet there was something within her very blood that told her not all was as it appeared. Morrigan laid everything bare for Brielle regarding the ritual; perhaps something more happened that neither of them anticipated.

There was no time to linger, however. The moment they reached Denerim, battle ensued, and Brielle and her company were forced to fight for not only their lives, but the lives of all of Ferelden. The darkspawn horde was powerful, and their numbers were far greater than Brielle imagined. However strong they were, though, Denerim's army, coupled with Eamon's forces and the army Brielle had amassed, were able to push back against the mindless monsters, forcing them back in a bloody fray. The capital's gates were swarming with hurlocks and genlocks; they made up the bulk of the horde, their blades and magic giving Brielle a run for her money as they pushed through, and it would be a lie to say they avoided all injury as they pressed into the masses. Blades flashed dangerously in the dying light, and it felt as though the darkspawn would never relent. However tired she was, though, the hope given to her through Morrigan’s ritual, the hope that not only Surana and Loghain, but  _ she _ could survive the onslaught, pushed her to fight stronger, move faster, and hit harder. There was no surrender in her eyes, only a maddened bloodlust spurred on by revenge for all she had been through that strengthened her. She was terrifying to behold, and though the darkspawn could not recognize it completely, they knew they were in for a bloodbath. Whatever insecurity she showed the previous night was long gone, and the sadness that she bore on her shoulders melted away to rage, and none recognized this more than Loghain. 

She was a warrior to be feared, no matter the situation, and while he recognized her prowess no matter where she fought, the sadness she bore since Redcliffe was nowhere to be found. Whatever transpired after she left him the night before, he did not know, and while he was thankful he did not have to look into her eyes to see the sorrow she had adopted, he could only wonder what changed. Regardless, her renewed strength radiated from her in an aura, reaching to not only him, but to their companions all around.

True to his word, Loghain fought beside her, defending her when she could not , and being her arm to an enemy she could not reach. Likewise, she had his back, taking down the enemies that attacked from behind, and together, with Surana’s waves of blood magic coursing in a scarlet haze around them, they felled a great number of darkspawn on their path to the city.

Taking the gates took several hours. The horde was strongest there, at least outside the city, and they created a barrier to prevent Ferelden’s armies from breaking through. Ogres were stationed right at the main gate, groups of smaller darkspawn surrounding them, and it took all their power to push through without getting hurt. There were several close calls, however; Wynne overextended her power, and through her, the power of the spirit that lived within her, nearly falling to the blade of a hurlock alpha that charged in her direction. It was only through Sten’s quick thinking that the darkspawn never met its charge, and he lopped off its head in one, fluid movement, sending ichor flying through the air and splattering across his armor. Similarly, Oghren took on more than he could handle, and had not Morrigan’s magic shielded him as Leliana and Zevran brought their blades and arrows upon the small horde gathered around him, he too would have fallen. Regardless, they were all battered and bruised in some way, by the time they took the gates, and it was through the mercy of the Creators that they managed to make it through.

It was just approaching twilight once they established their base, and they took no time to begin healing themselves, regaining their energy for the fight yet to come. Things were silent, aside from the far-off sound of battle, and there was hardly a word spoken between friends as they gathered their strength. Brielle stood away from the group, tightening the buckles on her gloves, observing the sky above her. The stars were just beginning to show themselves, unbothered by the war that raged on in the lands they watched over. Brielle wondered if the gods were watching her from the heavens, guiding her path when all seemed lost. It felt like a long shot, to say the least, but she had to have some sort of faith. She was their leader, after all, and her strength gave her friends strength, and her weakness would cause them to falter. She could not allow that. 

Her muscles ached in a way they hadn’t before; the energy she exerted for this fight was unlike anything she had ever experienced, and part of her questioned whether or not she would be able to continue. There was no way they could stop for a rest as the city was ransacked, and there was no way Brielle could fight as hard as she had late into the night. Of course, there was the matter of healing that she had yet to take, but she already refused it once before. Her friends needed their strength, after all.

Her silence and isolation did not go unnoticed. Though her back faced the camp, she heard heavy footfalls approach her slowly, recognizing the pace as Loghain’s. Still, she did not turn around, instead fixing her gaze on the sky, watching as the colors turned from lovely pinks and purples to inky black. 

When was the last time she really looked at the sky? She honestly couldn’t say, but as she watched the stars twinkle bright silver, she made out constellations of her people, memories of the stories her clan told. Beside her, Loghain paused, following her gaze. He did not see the sky quite like Brielle, but he could appreciate the heavenly bodies just as she did.

“You should heal yourself, Brielle,” he said seriously. His voice was tired, weathered like a general of old. “You lead us to victory; we can’t have you fall.”

There was something very telling about how he spoke, and Brielle tore her eyes from the skies, resting her gaze upon his face. His features were a stoic mask, all true thoughts and feelings hidden beneath the layers of a battle-hardened warrior, and yet his eyes were tired, concerned. He knew his duties, but he also knew the chance of losing Brielle was great, considering everything. He longed to reach for her, as she did he, but it was as though neither of them knew how to. Hushed whispers in the night were far easier than an embrace in the midst of battle, and to give themselves a moment of peace before the end, knowing that either of them could die was not something their already aching hearts could bear.

“What about you?” she replied after a moment. “Haven’t you healed?”

Loghain chuckled half-heartedly. “Surana made sure of it, believe it or not. She was insistent that I did. ‘For  _ Brielle’s _ sake,’ were her exact words.” He paused. “The look on her face did not allow for debate.”

Her jaw clenched, and she looked away, feeling her cheeks blaze. “How kind of her,” she said, a sarcastic lilt to her voice, but she knew her friend meant well. Brielle’s feelings regarding Loghain weren’t exactly secret, but at the same time, it did not need to spread, not now.

“Here,” Loghain continued, procuring a poultice from his waist pouch. “If you refuse healing, at least take this. Surana may have forced healing upon me for your sake, but at least take this...for mine.”

He cleared his throat awkwardly when Brielle looked at him again, taking the poultice from his hand. It was not like him to speak his heart, and it she could tell how uncomfortable it made him feel, amid their company. Regardless, a small smile graced her lips as she took it, immediately feeling reinvigorated and prepared for battle.

“Thank you,” she said, and despite herself, her voice quavered. She tried to hide it behind a cough, but Loghain could see right through it, and she soon felt a hand on her shoulder, squeezing it gently. Brielle supposed it was the only sort of touch he would allow himself to have, but regardless, it was a welcome sensation, especially as her stomach flipped.

“Afraid?”

Brielle bit her lip. “I’m terrified.” The nightmare was still fresh in her mind, no matter how hard she tried to push it away, and she could only imagine he was the same. She rested her hand on his, fingers entangling in the only sort of comfort she would allow herself that night. It seemed to be enough for him, even if just a moment.

Unfortunately, the moment was interrupted. From not far in front of them, Riordan came running, his hairline bleeding and lip swollen, concern furrowing his brow. Brielle and Loghain immediately dropped their contact, the former crossing her arms and the latter resting his hand on the sword at his hip. As far as they could tell, Riordan did not notice, and he glanced over his shoulder to make sure he was not followed.

There was a fear in his eyes that he tried desperately to mask, but Brielle could see it as plain as day, for it was the exact fear she felt in that very moment. From behind her, Surana approached, noticing Riordan’s appearance, and settled herself beside Brielle, inquisitive eyes searching Riordan for answers. He paused, only to catch his breath and wipe the blood from his eyes, and addressed them with a quick nod of his head.

Before he could say a word, however, the archdemon roared overhead, a terrible, spine-tingling howl that echoed in the air around them, raising the hair on the back of Brielle’s neck. The beating of great wings buffeted the air, and as the four of them looked up to the sky, it was then that Brielle got a taste for what they were up against for the first time.

Her stomach dropped, chills running down her back. The dreams toned down exactly how terrifying the creature truly was, and Brielle could feel her hands shaking, threatening to reveal her anxieties had she not balled them into fists, hiding them beneath her arms. Surana stiffened beside her, a small gasp falling from her lips, and Loghain was as stoic as ever, hardened eyes watching the creature as it made its path for Fort Drakon, where it would likely perch until the Wardens could arrive--should the darkspawn not get them first.

“I will go after the archdemon on my own,” Riordan said, catching their attention once again. Even in the dying light, it was not difficult to see that he was pale, anticipating what was to come. After all, Riordan was the one to make the final sacrifice, though Brielle wasn’t certain that his death would be necessary after Morrigan’s ritual, but a part of her still worried that it had all been in vain, and the magic would not take hold. Regardless, she pushed it from her mind, setting her jaw.

“And what about us?” she asked, her eyes narrowing. “Wouldn’t it be better to all go after the archdemon together?”

“A larger group means more chances for it to spot our advance,” he replied. “I need you to take out what darkspawn you can within the city, and help evacuate the survivors that may be left. After that, head to Fort Drakon, regardless if I am successful or not; this battle will not be an easy one.” He paused, raising his arm in a salute. “Maker watch over you all.

Brielle wrinkled her nose at the blessing, but said nothing, only nodding as she returned the salute. He departed quickly, and Brielle looked to both Loghain and Surana, a resolve on her features that was not there moments before. 

“It’s up to us,” she said, eyes flashing. “I don’t know that I can trust one man to kill that... _ thing _ ...as easily as he makes it out to be, but it’s imperative that we get to the Keep as soon as we can. We’re the only thing standing between Ferelden and the Blight, and I don’t intend to let it win.”

They nodded, and Brielle motioned for the three of them to return to the rest of the group. She already had it in her mind that she, with Loghain and Surana, would fight within Denerim; after all, they were the Grey Wardens, and their powers would aid them better within than without. Naturally, Peanut would fight by their side, and to even think about leaving Leliana behind without Surana was out of the question. As she organized the groups, giving Sten the order to lead them while she was not there, Morrigan brushed beside her, her yellow eyes glaring angrily at her. 

“After all this, and I am not to go with you?” she hissed, grimacing. She was not amused in the least, and Brielle could absolutely tell why.

Brielle laughed. “In your  _ delicate _ condition? Perish the thought.”

Morrigan did not seem pleased by her answer, but relented, sighing deeply. “I suppose, then, this shall be the last time we see each other, Brielle Mahariel. Fight hard, and live gloriously.”

Brielle nodded, her smile strained as Morrigan walked off to join the others in preparation for battle. Surana, Leliana, and Loghain-with Peanut in tow-awaited Brielle’s command, and as she approached them, they looked upon her with a fire in their eyes, a determination that they would come out on top and end the Blight once and for all. Brielle glanced backward one last time, furiously proud of how far she and her companions came since the very beginning, though the emptiness left by Alistair was still raw in her heart. As she turned to head toward the main gates, it was as though she could hear him, calling her name over the tumult, growing louder as each second passed. It wasn’t until she glanced over her shoulder one last time that she realized his voice wasn’t coming from inside her head, but from the man himself as he sprinted toward her, his brows knitted together in a panicked determination.

“ _ Brielle! _ ”

She did not have time to react as she was suddenly swept up into a monstrous hug, her feet lifted off the ground as armor scraped against armor. Stunned silence overtook her as she realized Alistair embraced her, and a second later, she returned the gesture, squeezing tightly onto the man she once considered her best friend. It was several seconds before they even thought about letting go of one another, and it wasn’t until Brielle heard Loghain clear his throat impatiently that she loosened her grip, feeling her feet touch the ground as he did the same.

“Alistair? W-what are you doing here?” The surprise was evident in her voice, and she looked at him with incredulity as he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, avoiding the gazes of her company.

“It occurred to me that you could be walking into your death, Brielle,” he said with a shrug. “And the last time we spoke, it didn’t go as well as I thought it would.” The memory of Alistair’s anger had not dampened in her mind, and Brielle frowned, a line creasing her brow. “If you die, I don’t want my last memory of you to be angry, y’know?”

Her jaw clenched and she bit her lip, feeling tears well up in the corners of her eyes. “I know,” she said thickly. “But in the middle of battle, Alistair? You have  _ terrible _ timing.”

“Yes, well, some things never change, eh?” he replied, chuckling weakly. He seemed just as afraid as Brielle felt, and while he would not be on the front lines against the archdemon as she would, the risk was still there. “I don’t want us to go into this hating each other. I may not agree with your decisions,” he paused, glaring angrily at Loghain, who returned the look right back, “I don’t want to lose your friendship. It sucks, let me tell you.”

Brielle shook her head, rolling her eyes. “It’s always last minute with you,” she said. “But I suppose that’s better than never.”

“ _ Right _ ? That’s what I thought.” He grew serious for a moment, resting his hands on both her shoulders. “Make it out of this one, alright Brielle? I don’t want to lose my best friend again.”

Brielle nodded. “I’ll see you on the other side, Alistair.”

\----------

“Watch  _ out! _ ”

The archdemon lobbed a ball of Blighted fire overhead, and it crashed into the tower behind Brielle, the stone structure threatening to topple on them. She grimaced as dust and stone began their descent, and with a roar, she pushed herself forward, avoiding the debris that would first hit the ground. She ran as fast as she could to Loghain’s position, his shield out and prepared to shelter them both, and from across the way, Surana had Leliana and Peanut under a blood magic shield, her hands working to extend the same courtesy to Brielle and Loghain.

Brielle tucked herself underneath Loghain’s shield arm as the rubble came crashing down, and he did what he could to block the debris with his body, covering his head from the impact. At the last second, a bloody, red haze surrounded them, and while it kept the stone from hitting either of them, the ground still shook below their feet as the tower fell. Their footing threatened to give out beneath them, but they were stronger than that. To let a little bit of rubble knock them off their guard was pathetic; they had encountered so much more in the past that this was no trouble.

The archdemon, however, was a different story. It landed heavily, not far from their position, letting loose a terrible roar into the heavens, shaking the entire structure of Fort Drakon. The blood shield around them dissipated in an instant, and Loghain hesitated to let down his guard, eyes on the dragon ahead of them.

“Are you alright?” he murmured. “You didn’t get hit?”

“I’m fine, Loghain,” she assured him, and they untangled from one another, readying their weapons for the next attack. “Don’t concern yourself with me right now; we have a more, er,  _ pressing _ issue.”

As though on cue, the archdemon roared again, swiping its great, clawed foot at the soldiers that quickly surrounded it. Surana joined up with Brielle and Loghain, Leliana and Peanut on her tail as the troops Brielle had gathered over the last year lined up behind them. Dalish elves, dwarves, and mages stood at the ready, prepared to unleash all they had at the archdemon, and their resolve did not weaken, even as they saw soldiers fly through the air, crashing into the keep’s walls. They fell lifeless onto the stone, blood seeping from every odd crevice in their armor, and Brielle’s brow furrowed, thinking quickly for the best line of defense.

“What’s your plan, then?” Loghain asked, his icy eyes fast on the archdemon. His features were fixed in an expression of determination and disdain, and his frown deepened with each moment he stared upon the creature. Surana stood beside him, her expression almost identical, one hand clasped tightly around her staff, the other entangled with Leliana’s as they both looked at Brielle, awaiting orders. Even Peanut sat at her feet patiently, listening closely for Brielle’s word.

“We surround it,” she said, her voice hoarse from battle, the dust in the air irritating her throat. “Attack from all sides; it may be an archdemon, but there’s no way it can defend against all of us.” She paused, her jaw clenching, as she looked at everyone around her. They all put their faith in her and looked to her for guidance for what was to come. She had no idea how she managed it, and how she commanded the respect of thousands of people, but the Creators decided this was where she needed to be, bloody daggers in hand and heart racing, at the mercy of an archdemon.

Another ball of blighted fire hurled itself through the air as the archdemon opened its maw, aimed directly at Brielle and her company. With quick thinking led by Surana, she and the mages pooled their magic together to create a barrier around them, protecting them from white-hot flames. Brielle gritted her teeth, her blades flashing dangerously in the fire’s light, and as the magic dissipated, the flames crackling out, she faced the archdemon with furious intent, steeling herself at what was to come. Loghain and Surana flanked her, and on either side of them, Peanut and Leliana prepared themselves, awaiting her orders. The Dalish, dwarves, and mages set up behind them, their weapons and magic at the ready, prepared to split into three groups, the moment Brielle gave word.

“Let’s hunt some darkspawn.”

With a ferocious warcry that tore her throat, Brielle launched herself toward the archdemon, a stampede of warriors following in her wake. Though she faced it head-on, the small army split into three main bodies, a mix of warriors and mages among each of them. Brielle and her companions, however, continued forward, blades shining and magic blazing in a bloody cyclone around them. 

The archdemon spared no time in defending itself. It flared its wings, great gusts of wind battering against Brielle as she tried to push forward, but her legs soon burned at the exertion the creature forced upon her. Still, she pressed on, and no sooner had she reached its massive claws did the Dalish archers began their assault, distracting the monster from all sides as arrows rained down on it like a sharp, painful storm.

It whipped its head around as it focused its anger on the archers, flames shooting from its gaping maw. Brielle saw her opportunity to strike as it exposed its chest, and she ran forward, sliding underneath the creature’s body. She only caught a glimpse of Surana and Loghain from between the archdemon’s legs, panic settled on their features, but she ignored them, driving her blades straight up into the creature’s stomach. It roared something terrible, rearing onto its back legs, launching itself into the air to escape Brielle’s ire. Blood splattered across her head and shoulders as her daggers were pulled from its stomach, and she backed up to her previous position, grimacing as she lost her mark. 

The archers and mages, however, thought a step ahead. She could feel magic crackling in the air around her as the mages prepared their spells, and the pull of bowstrings echoed in the air as the archers aimed their weapons upward. With a singular  _ twang _ , the arrows were released, carried up and toward their target by the magic released in unison, and as they reached their mark, piercing both chest and wings, the warriors waited on the ground, their weapons drawn and waiting to drive into the archdemon’s flesh.

The attack was successful in bringing down the beast, and Brielle cast a glance over her shoulder, judging their proximity to the archdemon. Surana and Leliana continued their assault from afar, magic and arrows mixing together in a fluid motion, each carrying the other to its target. Loghain and Peanut ran side by side to join Brielle in the fray, and the archdemon landed, not far from their position, gathering its wits before loosing a terrible roar, the power in its voice rattling the very essence of the keep.

“This is it,” she growled, wiping the back her hand against her face, smearing the archdemon’s blood more, rather than cleaning it off. The smell of ichor encompassed her senses, stinging her nose and causing her eyes to water, but she brushed it off, looking at Loghain with a furious fire in her eyes. “This is what everything has been leading up to.”

He nodded curtly, looking from her, to the archdemon, and back again. “What do you suggest we do?”

She bit her lip in thought, eyes narrowing as the archdemon roared, axes and swords tearing into its flesh. It did not seem any more wounded than it had before the battle, and Brielle was anxious to run into the fray again, but it was not a thought she could afford to have. Instead, she though back to previous battles, her eyes widening as she remembered one of her first fights alongside Loghain.

“Remember the pride demon?” she said, twirling her daggers in her hands. A note of confusion crossed over his face for a moment, before comprehension dawned in his eyes. She needn’t say more, for he nodded curtly, knowing exactly what it was she suggested.

“Good,” she continued. “We’ll go in together, distract it, and then I’ll fall back. You’ll know when it’s time.”

With a warcry to match even the greatest warrior, Brielle took off to join the masses that surrounded the archdemon, brandishing her blades with a fury known only to her. Loghain followed closely, shield positioned before him, and Peanut ran as fast as his legs would carry him, howling over the din of battle. The three of them collided with the archdemon only seconds after they began their assault, and blades and claws hacked and slashed against the creature’s legs, forcing it’s attention back to the three of them. 

Brielle could feel strength course through her veins as Surana’s magic surrounding her in an invisible shield. It reinvigorated her, and she drove her daggers into the archdemon’s foreleg, stabbing it repeatedly, ducking each time its great head swung past her. It was like she danced around it, with fluid movements and sure steps, and each time, she got closer to the hollow between its legs, hoping to land another strike from beneath. The archdemon was cunning, however, and with each step she took toward it, she had to take another two back as it thwarted her plans. Razor-sharp teeth grazed by her head, and she could feel its hot breath ruffle her hair the closer it came to swallowing her whole. 

She was getting frustrated with the creature, but she knew this wasn’t going to be an easy fight. She drove a dagger into its muscle, but was forced to jump back without it as its claws came crashing down upon her. Growling, she tumbled back, rolling away before she could gather herself, and just as she thought the archdemon was going to end her for good, Loghain’s voice came roaring above the din of battle, his shield bashing against its gaping maw.

The warriors around the archdemon continued their plight, but its wings and tail swept them away, before it launched itself into the air, landing behind Brielle with her dagger still in its flesh. Loghain, Surana, and Leliana joined her at the front of the battle, and she knew it was to be now or never that they felled the great beast. Leliana readied her bow, Surana raising her staff high above her head, and Loghain, with a final glance at Brielle, launched himself toward the beast, forcing its full attention on him as he drove his blade into its leg. Arrows and magic flew past Brielle as Surana and Leliana lended their aid, and when she saw Loghain’s sword forced from his hand as the archdemon reared back, she knew it was at that moment that she had to go.

Pulling a small dagger from its sheath on her thigh, Brielle watched at Loghain dropped to his knees in front of the archdemon, ready to assist her with her attack. It felt like she moved through water as she took off, running as fast as her weary legs would take her, and though Surana’s magic flowed through her veins, the very essence of the archdemon seemed to work against her. Still, she persisted. She was only a few feet away when he raised his shield above his head, and with a final, ferocious roar, she pounced, and the moment her foot touched the shield, Brielle felt herself be lifted upward. The momentum of her jump carried her upward, and her teeth were bared in a feral sneer as she landed atop the archdemon’s head, finding her footing as it thrashed about. Below, Loghain looked up, relieved she had made it, but he did not see the creature’s claws come swinging from his left. It caught him across the chest, sending him flying across the way, and he crashed into the wall, falling lifeless to the ground.

Brielle saw nothing. Rage blinded her and her instincts told her nothing but to kill the bastard beneath her feet. She raised her daggers high above her head and drove them down again, screaming at the top of her lungs.

“ _ Die, you blighted FUCK! _ ”

Her daggers pierced its skull, and the archdemon threw back its head, threatening to throw Brielle from it, but she held on, refusing to loosen her grip on the blades’ hilts. She twisted herself, latching her legs around its neck, and tightened her grip, pulling out her daggers and driving them into its jaw. It shrieked, throwing its head from side to side, and she could only continue stabbing it as she held on for dear life, waiting for its life to ebb away.

The descent was not long thereafter; the archdemon wheezed as Brielle continued to sever its head from its neck, and she rose to her feet, digging her heels into its flesh as it fell. Time stood still as it came crashing down, and Brielle secured her daggers in the base of its skull, preparing herself for impact. Closer it came to the ground, and closer was Brielle to finishing the task she had set off to do, and ending the Blight before it had a chance to begin.

With a thunderous crash, the archdemon hit the ground, rattling the fort with the strength of its impact. Her teeth were gritted as she pulled her daggers from its head, and she leapt off the creature, bringing her blades down upon its neck with a strength she had not expected of herself. A terrible yell escaped her, blood and ichor splashing across her face, and Brielle rend the archdemon’s head completely from its body, killing the bastard once and for all. 

Stunned silence fell across the battlements, and her shoulders heaved as she breathed deeply from exertion. The quiet was deafening, and for a moment, Brielle was unsure as to whether or not Morrigan’s ritual took hold. Was the soul within her? Had the soul even left the archdemon’s corpse? A thousand things ran through her mind as she stood at the archdemon’s head, her daggers clattering to the ground, her task completed.

And then the corpse erupted in a burning light.

Brielle was thrown backward off her feet as a yellow pillar of shining light burst into the air, momentarily blinding her and all who were around them. The structure shook violently, and Brielle could hear the song of the archdemon in her head as its soul took flight from its body. She laid, paralyzed, on the stone floor, fear overtaking every aspect of her. Would the soul find her? Would it take hold? She was not ready to die, and even the thought of seeing her parents or Tamlen again wouldn’t make it easier. However, the song of the archdemon soon faded, and it was then that she realized Morrigan’s plan had rung true. She could not feel the taint of the product of their ritual, but as Morrigan said, it would be a beacon to the archdemon, and a trap that would hold it forever.

As soon as the pillar of light appeared, it faded, and Brielle blinked several times, her body shaking violently. It was over. She looked at the stars overhead, and they seemed to twinkle brighter than they had in ages. Her body protested when she finally moved, and getting to her feet was a lot harder than she had anticipated, but no sooner had she stood up than Surana and Leliana launched themselves toward her, Peanut in tow, engulfing her in a hug so fierce, she wondered if it would be her end. 

“Brielle, you did it!” Surana sobbed, her blood-stained cheek pressed against the top of Brielle’s head.

“And you’re alive!” Leliana added, wiping away tears. Even Peanut howled in happiness, running circles around the three women, thankful to be alive.

“We did it,” Brielle repeated. “It’s over.” Relief spread over her like nothing she had felt before, and she nearly resigned herself to become a sobbing mess within their arms, but something was not right. Something felt off, and it was then she realized Loghain was nowhere around them.

Panic settled in, and she quickly untangled herself from their embrace, wide eyes searching for any sign of him. Peanut, too, ran off, helping Brielle, and it wasn’t until she heard him bark several meters away that she found him. She sprinted after the mabari, shouldering through crowds of elves, dwarves, and mages, her mind frantic. She hadn’t seen him fall, but neither had she seen him continue the fight, and it was then that she felt her chest tighten in panic, her only thought being him. It was when she finally reached the opposite side of the keep, the celebrating masses making her trek far harder than it needed to be, that she saw him, laying on the ground, brow bleeding and unmoving.

Her pace slowed, and she fell to her knees the moment he was within reach, features frozen in sorrowed horror. Hands hovering before her, Brielle did not quite know where to place them, where to check if he was even still alive, if his heart still beat. Peanut whined sadly, circling the pair of them like a protective guard, nosing Loghain’s gauntleted hand hopefully, as though the dog’s touch would magically bring him around, but it was in vain. He did not stir, unaware that Brielle dragged herself closer to his unmoving form, hovering over him to better look at his face. It was still, oddly peaceful, and blood spilled freely from his brow where his head hit the Fort’s stone wall. The tears Brielle had been holding in now threatened to spill, and as she wiped the blood from his skin, soft, wet blotches appeared on his face from where her anguish fell. She hated crying, Creators knew that, and Brielle fought to bite back the tears, they only came in force, and her shoulders shook as sobs threatened to cry out, a sorrowful howl matched only by Peanut’s mournful lament. From across the way, Surana and Leliana approached slowly, their own expressions not of jubilation, but of sadness, their eyes falling upon Brielle. They may have saved Ferelden, but perhaps not all would see the light of day again.

“I  _ swear  _ to the Creators,” she growled, wiping the blood from his brow. She tried to be angry, as though it would force him back to consciousness, but he did not respond. “If you  _ die _ after all of this, I’m going to have Surana raise you so I can kill you myself.” Her words were hollow, however, and a choked sob escaped her, tears spilling more freely now. The chatter around her felt very far away, as though it were muted in her ears, and she didn’t notice as her friends watched sadly, hoping for the best, knowing that it might not be so. She tore off her gloves, casting them aside as she rested her hands on his face, his skin icy beneath her warm touch, and she bent over him, touching her brow to his, as though that alone could breathe some life into him.

“ _ Damn it _ , Loghain,” Brielle choked when he did not move, and she pressed herself against his chest, and though their armor was awkwardly in the way, she refused to reposition herself. Her tears continued to wet his face. “You’re not supposed to do this. You’re not supposed to die. I-” She paused, wiping away her tears, clutching him tightly. “I can’t lose you, too. Please, wake up.”

Fate was cruel, indeed. Brielle had no intention of moving away from Loghain’s chest, and Peanut whined sadly, curling up beside her, intelligent eyes vigilant. She was tired. So  _ very  _ tired. So much happened over the course of the last year, and though the archdemon was dead, it still seemed far from over. Violence was her companion, bloodshed a constant, and darkspawn haunted her very shadows wherever she walked, wherever she went. Death was a constant at the hands of she and her companions, and she felt as though it was doomed to follow her for the rest of her life, no matter how far she fled. She fought her way through Denerim and its politics, bringing order to shemlen affairs while trying to play their game without having the lesser hand. She ended a centuries-long battle between werewolves and a Dalish clan to gain their alliance. She had to put a king on Orzammar’s throne, before they would even consider helping against the Blight. She killed Tamlen with her own weapon, cutting his heart out so he wouldn’t suffer any longer. 

When would it end?

Suddenly, Loghain jolted beneath her, gasping for air as his eyes flew open. Brielle choked back a startled yelp, and she sat up to allow him space to breathe, looping her hands underneath his arms to pull him up. He blinked several times over, dazed and confused as he sat upright, propping himself up with one hand, while the other ran over his head and through his hair, pushing stray jet locks out of his eyes. Brielle held her breath, her hands over her mouth as she watched him, unable to bring herself to speak, and it was a full minute before he gained his composure, icy blue eyes finally meeting hers. They were wide and fearful, but also relieved. Tears poured from them, but he could not tell if they were from sorrow or joy, maybe both. Regardless, she breathed out, a weary smile gracing her lips, and she ran her hands through her hair as she looked at him, hardly believing any of this was real.

It took a moment for him to find his voice. “It’s dead.” It was not a question. He watched her closely, hiding the surprise as how weak his voice sounded, how dry his throat felt.

Brielle nodded, smiling through her tears, unable to discern which of a dozen emotions she felt at that moment. “It’s dead,” she said hoarsely. “It’s over. We’ve won.” Their gazes lingered on one another’s, and Loghain lifted his hand to her face, brushing away her tears with his thumb. She leaned into the touch with a contented sigh, and it was all he needed to see. He was not certain when he would next get the chance, and he pulled her into his arms atop Fort Drakon, kissing her fiercely, arms wrapped around her as though to let her go would mean to lose her forever. Brielle squeaked in surprise, but gathered herself not a second later, leaning fully into the kiss, her hands framing his face tenderly as she put everything she had into the single motion. It was all she wanted, truly, and as they broke apart, their brows still pressed together, the smile he bore was one of the truest she had ever seen of him. Her thumbs trailed lines across his face, and his grip on her only became tighter.

“We’ve won.”


	17. Chapter 17

The days following the archdemon’s death were a blur. Brielle was far more injured than her adrenaline led her to believe, and the moment she, Loghain, Surana, and Leliana managed to reach the front gates again, they were whisked away separately to be healed, away from prying eyes. The castle still stood, relatively undamaged, the interior still useable for the intent to heal the party, and Anora saw to it that her best worked on the heroes of the battle. She spared no expense for Brielle, who insisted she was fine, but when she lost her footing on more than one occasion, her vision swimming before her eyes, she relented and admitted that maybe there was more injury to her than what she could see.

Her room was far away from the rest, in the most secluded wing of the castle. An honor guard stood vigilant outside her room at all times; while she could come and go as she pleased, free to roam the halls as she saw fit, the guards were posted to keep any unwanted visitors away from Brielle, no matter who they were. News of her victory over the archdemon spread like wildfire, and whispers among common folk and nobility alike fluttered all around her. For a Grey Warden to survive the death of an archdemon was unheard of, but the population didn’t care; they called her the Hero of Ferelden, a title she  _ could  _ get used to, provided the people didn’t get too carried away. Of course, shemlen always had a way of surprising her, and it was never a  _ good _ way. Already, they sought an audience with her, no doubt to get in her good graces, despite her standing as a Warden and elf. Still, for her to become the hero of all Ferelden might be a good thing; she might just be able to use her title and influence to help her people all over, in alienages and the wilds, alike.

For four days, she rested. Her room was quite large, enough for her and Peanut to live comfortably, and for the duration of her stay, she hardly left the plush bed Anora had provided her. Her muscles ached like they never had before, and her body was littered in cuts and bruises, half healed and rather itchy. News of her companions had not yet reached her, and though she worried about their condition, her own body told her to clear her mind while it healed. Over-stressing herself would do her no good, and Peanut made sure that she found a peace of mind whenever he could. He never left her side, sprawled against her when they laid together, and her hand never left him, whether just resting on his head or scratching his ears. She was thankful for his company, and not even the archdemon itself could separate them. 

Brielle didn't have much for visitors during her healing, save for the few healers that tended to her throughout the week. It was Anora's doing, no doubt, and she was thankful that her days alone were in relative solitude. Any influx of visits would stress her more than she cared, potentially setting back any healing she had already done, and she had no interest in recounting the events that transpired mere days ago time and time again. She had been right in the fray, after all, killing the archdemon personally; Surana or Leliana likely would be able to repeat what happened with far more accuracy than Brielle, and she wouldn’t be surprised if Leliana already began composing a tale she could spread as a bard. She was happy to let her have that moment, as she had been there, witnessing the events firsthand.

However, no matter the visitors barred from her room, Alistair always managed to come in as some point during the day. Even if he thought he was being sneaky about it, he was quite obvious, but the guards humored him every time. He  _ was _ the king, or future king at least, and there was little that the guards could do to stop him if he wanted to see Brielle. Of course, he always asked if she was well enough to talk, and more often than not, she was perfectly content to have him around, carrying on the conversation as she lay peacefully on her bed. The past two months had been odd without him, and it left a hollow in not only her, but a good part of her companions as well. Peanut was happy to see him, naturally, and each and every time he stopped by, Brielle would be hard pressed to separate them, even if she tried.

" _ So _ ," Alistair said as Peanut assaulted his face with kisses, his stub of a tail wagging wildly. It was a struggle to part them, even when Brielle tugged on the dog with all her strength. He finally relented, however, sprawling over Brielle's lap with a defeated huff. 

" _ Anyway, _ " he continued, wiping the slobber from his face. "How did things go without me? You didn't have any trouble, did you?"

"No more than usual," Brielle replied, scratching Peanut behind the ear. He groaned, stretching his legs out, and rolled over onto his back, begging for belly rubs, to which Brielle obliged. "Darkspawn, demons, take your pick. We saw it all."

"Sounds about right." He paused, looking at Peanut, but Brielle could tell by the look on his face that the difficult conversation was about to come to the surface. She didn't intend to reveal the nature of her relationship with Loghain, but she wasn't going to lie about how well they got on, either. She wanted to be blunt with Alistair, even if it angered him; there was no use hiding everything.

"So,  _ Loghain. _ "

There is was. Brielle looked at him, arching her brow, and she kept her expression decidedly calm, refusing to betray any sort of negative thought. She did not give him an accusatory response, but kept herself from getting unnecessarily defensive. Whether Alistair liked it or not, he was, and always would be, a Grey Warden. 

"What about him?" she asked with forced indifference, keeping her voice steady. She had not heard anything regarding his condition since they were transported to the castle, but Brielle assumed he was healing just as she was. After all, he was quite a bit more banged up than she; trying to get him to the front gates was a struggle, and required not only her help, but Surana's as well. 

"He hasn't  _ betrayed  _ you yet, has he? Stabbed you in the back?"

Brielle snorted. "Far from it, Alistair. He's kept his vows as a Grey Warden, believe it or not, and we actually work well together."

He did not seem convinced. His features darkened, and Brielle could see his lip curl in indignation, unhappy with her response. "You  _ get along _ with him? After everything he’s  _ done? _ Ostagar?  _ Duncan? _ The man tried to kill you, or do you not remember?" 

"I remember, quite clearly," she replied, coolly, her eyes flashing. She was not in the mood for another argument, and so long as they both lived, Brielle was certain this would be cause for strain between them. "His defeat at the Landsmeet knocked some sense into him, it seems, but I’d rather not continue arguing about this. I don’t think either of us are going to budge on our opinions."

“No...you’re right.” His eyes narrowed, but he did not press the issue. "Anora is grateful you spared him," he continued with a shrug, his nose still wrinkled in distaste. Brielle ignored the tone in his voice, rubbing Peanut’s belly. "She spent a good deal of time trying to convince me that what you were doing was going to help. I suppose...she was right, but I'm still not happy about it."

"You don't have to be. He's  _ my _ responsibility, not yours. You have a kingdom to rule now, and if I'm honest, I'd take Loghain over  _ that _ any day."

"Don't remind me." He grimaced, scratching Peanut's chin when the dog whined at him. "You know, I am going to miss running around with you lot, fighting darkspawn and all that. I suppose my life won’t be the same…" He trailed off, looking wistfully out the window, his brow creasing. "There was something I wanted to ask you, though. Killing the archdemon requires a sacrifice, but you, Surana, and Loghain are all still alive. How?"

Brielle hesitated, looking away. "You won't like it if I told you."

"Try me."

Brielle gave him a wry smile. "As you wish, your  _ Majesty _ ." He grimaced at her tease, but said nothing more, awaiting her answer. "Flemeth sent Morrigan with us for a reason, Alistair, and it wasn't just to be a pain in your ass. There was…" She paused, frowning as she thought of the right word. "A ritual, I suppose. The ritual's purpose was to destroy the archdemon without the great sacrifice in the end. Believe it or not, I didn't really want to die."

“You could have let Loghain die.”

“Yes, but how would that have helped the Grey Wardens, Alistair? We need more, not less.”

"Fine,  _ fine _ ,” he sighed. “What  _ kind _ of ritual, then?"

"I-I don’t know. I'm still not sure I understand it, and I don’t know if it’s something I want to explain quite yet."

He was about to retort when there came a knock from the door, and a hushed silence fell upon them as their attention was pulled away from one another. They sat, staring for a few moments, and Brielle vaguely thought to get up and open it, but her legs did not particularly feel like working at that moment. Before she could even think to move, however, the door swung inward, and Brielle stiffened when Anora appeared in the doorway, her hands clasped before her patiently, shrewd eyes searching. 

"Forgive my intrusion, Brielle,” she said, allowing herself in. Brielle had no mind to stop her; after all, she was a guest of the queen, and she did not want to be rude. “Eamon calls for Alistair to discuss certain matters that need attending to, and I would like to speak with you, Brielle, as well." Brielle and Alistair looked at one another, frowning. There was really no point in fighting it, and she knew it likely had to do with Alistair’s future responsibilities as king of Ferelden. With a nod, she urged him to go, and he shrugged, rising slowly to his feet.

"We'll catch up later, I suppose," he said half heartedly. “Sometimes I forget exactly how  _ much _ needs to be done with all of this.” With a final glance, Alistair nodded, leaving Brielle and Anora quite alone.

"My father recovers remarkably quickly," Anora said, shutting the door quietly behind her. Brielle swung her legs over the edge of the bed, finding her footing. Her legs still felt like jelly, but she was becoming stronger with each passing day.

"That's good to hear," Brielle replied calmly, trying to mask her relief. She wasn't aware how much Anora knew about what transpired between Denerim and Redcliffe, and she wasn't about to be the one to tell her. After all, despite what happened, Brielle wasn’t entirely sure what her relationship with Loghain was at the moment, nor where it would lead. "The archdemon was..." She paused, her brow knitting. “It was unlike anything I’ve ever fought before. It hit hard and fast, and part of me wondered if we were actually going to kill it without any casualties. And for a moment, we thought it did; Lo--your  _ father  _ was hit pretty hard. We almost thought it got him.” 

"He's fortunate it didn't." Anora said, striding across the room with purpose. She seated herself next to Brielle, and this close, she could see how tired the queen truly was. She could only imagine the appearances Anora had to keep up in the wake of Denerim’s destruction, and the nobility she had to deal with on the daily, just to get anything done. It appeared as though she had suffered several sleepless nights, as of late, and her shoulders slouched with a weariness Brielle had not yet seen of her. It gave her cause for concern; the bags under Anora’s eyes were deep and dark, and she wouldn’t be surprised if she passed out on the spot.

"Are you alright?" Brielle asked, and Anora looked at her blankly, frowning. She had not anticipated such a question from anyone, least of all Brielle, and it took her a moment before she gathered her wits, thinking over the question. However, she brushed it aside, sitting up a little straighter, offering Brielle a weary laugh.

“I'm fine," she said, though her smile did not quite reach her eyes. "It is  _ you _ who I worry about, Brielle. How is your recovery coming? Are the healers treating you well?" She seemed earnest in her concern, and Brielle shrugged, pursing her lips. 

"They haven't called me 'knife-ear,' if that's what you mean," she said. "But as far as I can tell, things are healing. Everything still hurts, and my legs don't exactly work like they need to, but I expect I should be better in a few days."

Anora nodded, watching her closely to search for any tells in the elf's face, but she found nothing. "I'm glad to hear it." She paused for a moment, folding her hands together. "Would you be well enough to appear before the nobility in a few days time? They have not stopped  _ hounding _ me for an audience with you, and I can only stretch my hand so far before they start speaking ill of me." Her nose wrinkled in annoyance, eyes cold at the prospect of dealing with Denerim's nobles. In truth, she could have just told Brielle that it would happen, regardless of her feelings on the matter, but she was grateful that Anora had at least asked first.

"I don't see why not," she replied, though it was obvious in her expression that she would rather do anything else. "I suppose I can't avoid it forever, and I wouldn't doubt they'd follow me until I did."

"You are right about that," Anora agreed. "You do have the luxury of leaving the city, however, and I doubt they would leave the comforts of their estates to go wandering after a Grey Warden."

"Thank the Creators for that. I have very little patience for nobility who otherwise turn up their nose at the suffering of my people, Dalish or city."

Anora smiled. "As you should. I must be going however; my time is very limited as we prepare for your honoring ceremony  _ and  _ Alistair's coming to the throne. I will be happy when this is over, as you, no doubt, will be as well."

"You're right about that," Brielle said wearily. "I've had enough formalities for a lifetime, and I'll be relieved when I can finally be left alone."

"I don't think you have that luxury, unfortunately," Anora replied, rising. "The title 'Hero of Ferelden' will follow you everywhere, I'm afraid. The people will sing songs of your heroism long after we have all passed on." Brielle grimaced at the thought but said nothing, only nodding repeatedly. Anora offered her a sympathetic glance before turning on her heel, dismissing herself. 

"Rest well Brielle."

\----------

"I can't do this."

Brielle stood in line with Loghain and Surana, her stomach churning. There were too many people in the hall, too many shemlen that didn't particularly care  _ what _ she had done, but wanted the recognition for speaking with her before she disappeared. She could hear their excited chatter beyond the doors they stood before, and to try and mask her anxiety, she folded her arms over her chest, tucking her shaking hands beneath her elbows. She adopted a disapproving scowl, and she heard Surana laugh beside her, nudging her gently. 

"They're here for you, Brielle, you know that," she said, leaning on her staff heavily. While she came out of the battle relatively unharmed, she still managed to injure her leg badly during the fight with the archdemon. She was healed up for the most part, but the pain still lingered, and it made it difficult for her to get around without assistance. 

"They might be here for  _ me,  _ Hela, but they don't really care. You know the thoughts of humans just as well as I do."

"I suppose you have a point," she replied, though still amused by Brielle's disdain. "But it's one day, you'll survive."

Brielle said nothing and frowned. She could hear Anora through the door, but it was muddled, and she couldn't make out anything except for the proud, authoritative tone of her voice. Her heart raced in anticipation, especially after the roar of applause all but shook the castle, and she felt Loghain’s hand brushed against hers discreetly, and though small, it was all he could do to offer her any sort of comfort in current company. She chanced a glance at him, and his expression was as stoic as ever, though there was a glint in his eye that she saw whenever he looked at her.

“You made it through the Landsmeet,” he muttered, his voice low enough so that only she might hear. “You can make it through this.”

“Last time I checked,” she muttered back, her brow creasing, “defeating  _ you _ isn’t the same as defeating an archdemon.” 

He said nothing, but Brielle could have sworn she hear him chuckle under his breath. She couldn’t dwell on it, however, for the doors before her swung open, and Brielle was greeted with a tumultuous roar of applause as she was revealed to the citizens of Denerim.

“I give you,” Anora said over the din, her eyes shining as they fell upon Brielle, “the Hero of Ferelden!”

It was no sooner that she had spoken that Brielle was ushered into the hall, the crowds of nobility immediately swooping in on her. She did not see her companions enter, and she had half a mind to tell the nobility, who stopped at nothing to bombard her with questions, to shove off so she could join her friends. Keeping up presences, however, was probably the better idea, if not for her own sake, but for Anora’s. After all, she spoke rather highly of Brielle, before and after the battle with the archdemon, and Brielle did not want to lose her political ally over something so childish as a row with pestering nobility. Still, her patience was already wearing thin at the misinformed, and downright ignorant questions they asked her, and Brielle soon found herself plotting her escape, with or without her friends. The doors were not so far from her position, but the trick was sliding away, unnoticed, by the multitudes that waited their turn with the Hero of Ferelden.

“So are the stories true?” asked one woman, her default expression being one of utmost disgust, as though something smelly rested under her nose. Brielle had a gut feeling that she was not going to like whatever the woman asked, and she braced herself for the worst. Shemlen were so ignorant, and it wasn’t up to Brielle to educate them when they were perfectly capable to do so themselves, especially with the resources at their disposal, but to a human, an elf was close to nothing.

“I almost regret asking this,” Brielle sighed dully, her expression devoid of emotion, the tone of her voice to match. “But what sort of stories?” She braced herself for the worst.

“Oh,  _ you know _ ,” the noblewoman continued, as though she were about to unleash the most scandalous rumor this side of the Frostbacks. “ _ Your _ people, kidnapping women and children to sacrifice to your pagan gods and appease their anger?”

Brielle’s brow twitched, her anger flaring. She had half a mind to whip out her daggers and show this woman exactly how the Dalish worked, but she had left them in her room for reasons exactly like this. Her hands were still fierce weapons, however, and they soon curled into fists at her side, her lip curled as she readied a verbal attack.

“Ignorance isn’t exactly a good look on you, with all due  _ respect _ ,” she said through gritted teeth, and there was no lack of sarcasm as she spoke, her eyes flashing dangerously. “Wherever you heard your fanciful tales, you  _ may _ want to reconsider them. It’s foolish to even think about believing them, and it reflects back on you for doing so.”

The woman’s nose wrinkled, and she scoffed, resting her hand on her chest. “You insult me?”

“You insult yourself.”

The woman glared indignantly, turning on her heel, and Brielle watched on triumphantly, daring anyone else to ask the same. The gathered crowd looked at one another anxiously, wondering if they dare approach Brielle, whose cross expression caused them to shrink back into their wine and hors d'oeuvres. Before they could make a decision, however, Brielle disappeared into the crowd, head bowed to avoid the gaze of nobility that might want her attention, and rushed to the opposite side of the chamber looking for any sign of her companions.

Surana and Leliana were surrounded by a group of what looked like Orlesian bards, the former looking quite uncomfortable as she was introduced. As a blood mage and elf that towered above them all, she looked rather out of place, and when she caught Brielle’s eye, she shook her head briefly, warning her not to approach. She didn’t need to be told twice, and slowly backing away, she vaguely wondered exactly why Orlesians would show up to such an event. Ferelden was far from the splendor and extravagance that Orlais was known for, and more often than not, Brielle heard complaints rather than praise. 

Alistair spoke with Eamon and Anora at the head of the hall, barring Brielle from speaking with him, especially as Eamon glared at her from over her friend’s shoulder. He was still not happy with her for arranging a political marriage between Alistair and Anora; Anora was knowledgeable in politics, and was already a good ruler, able to instruct Alistair when needed. It made it conveniently more difficult for Eamon to step in and encourage Alistair to follow what he saw fit, and he would never get over how easily Brielle saw right through him.

Her companions all seemed to be lost in conversation, and she didn’t have the heart to interrupt any of them. For the first time in over a year, they were relaxed and at ease, without the looming threat of an archdemon and Blight hanging over their heads. It was an odd feeling, and even Brielle could not exactly stand still, even though there was no reason to fight.Though there were likely stragglers of darkspawn hanging about, it wasn’t as detrimental to kill them like it was before. She still felt naked without her weapons, however, and she tapped her foot incessantly, arms folded over her chest as she adopted a less than approachable expression. There were still nobility that wished to speak with her, if only for appearances and nothing more, but she wanted to make it difficult for them, especially after the failed conversation with the noblewoman from earlier. Brielle would be happy when the formalities were done with; there was little she hated more than conversing with shem that didn't give two shits as to who she was outside of the  _ Hero of Ferelden, _ and it showed.

Hours dragged on as more and more citizens of Denerim flocked to the castle, and soon the main hall was getting too crowded for comfort. Dozens of eyes focused on Brielle as she made her rounds, fixed in a mixture of awe, appreciation, or disdain, the latter far more often than she would have liked. Their racism was anything but subtle, and it gave her only a hint of satisfaction, knowing they had to acknowledge an elf as a savior of the people. She only hoped that their  _ beloved  _ Chantry didn't rewrite her history as they did with so many before her. Who knew the amount of elves that they erased from history to further their anti-elf sentiments. 

A feast was held not long after, the meal a rather flavorless variety of foods, no doubt to satiate the nobility that lacked the proper palate for more savory cuisine. While she did not turn the food away, there was no masking the distaste in Brielle's face as she shoveled food in her mouth, and she did her best to eat without tasting without being too obvious about it. 

Beside her, Loghain chuckled softly, slowly picking at his own meal. "That bad?"

Brielle hid a shiver. "Do all humans have a terrible habit of keeping their food unseasoned?" she asked in a hush, tilting her head toward him. 

He took a bite, face impassive, before replying. "As flavorless a meal as the nobility are people. You get used to it, attending banquets and the like."

"No thanks."

The meal continued on wordlessly, and Brielle excused herself the moment she could, finishing her meal long before the rest. For the time being, until her friends were free, she hid in a far corner of the hall, blue eyes darting around the area as she searched for the nearest escape, should she be assaulted by nobility once more. It soon became apparent, however, that the festivities were coming to a close. People filed out of the castle in small groups, and the roar of conversation soon dissipated into a dull chatter. Brielle could finally breathe. 

She spotted Loghain far away from the remaining nobility, positioned by the nearest door, arms folded in impatience as he waited for the evening's activities to end. Brielle was not blind, and she could see as easily as anyone that Anora's gathering caused him great discomfort. Naturally, she could not blame him; he  _ was _ the cause for Ferelden's issues over the past year, and many who gathered made no attempt to mask their disapproval that he yet lived. Brielle paid them no mind; their disapproval, while aimed at Loghain, reflected back on her as well, as the decision to recruit him fell entirely on her shoulders. Whether or not they realized it was a completely different matter, and she would delight in putting them in their place, regarding Loghain. 

Ignoring anyone that might want her attention, Brielle made a line straight to Loghain, and she could see the relief spread across his face the moment she came into view. His shoulders relaxed, though he did not unfold his arms, and he leaned against the doorframe of his eventual escape, watching her with icy blue eyes that were far warmer than Brielle could have imagined. Even after everything she experienced, her stomach twirled when he looked at her like that, and she responded with a demure smile of her own, one of the few, true smiles she had allowed the past week.

"I'll be happy when this all over with," he grumbled, looking over her head as he glared at the remaining nobility. "I always hated gatherings like this; I think it gave Maric great fun to stick me in the middle of them."

"You don't say," she replied with a small laugh. "I couldn't tell at all, but I understand. Imagine how it is for me."

"Indeed. I'm sure it's a sight different than any gathering of your clan."

"When we gathered, I was never at the center of it, that's for one." She paused, dragging her hands through her hair. "I wonder what happens after this."

There was no denying the tone in her voice. What she truly meant was for her and Loghain, and where fate would take them once they were free of nobility. Brielle assumed the worst, naturally, and that whatever feelings they harboured for each other would wilt away, second to their duties as Grey Wardens. She certainly didn't want that to happen, and Creators be damned if she didn't fight for the one thing her heart so longed for. However, the melancholic look Loghain gave her told her they would not have the happy ending that she could only dream of. 

"Anora has tasked me with recruiting Wardens for Ferelden," he admitted, frowning. "As there are only three of us left, she felt it would be best."

Brielle nodded. Anora was right, and she would have been happy to go along with him, had she not been waiting on her own orders from Weisshaupt. She was now the Warden Commander of Ferelden, after all, and there was likely a handful of things she needed to do before continuing her work as a Warden. 

"She's wise," Brielle said. "You should be proud."

"I don't think I could be prouder of her, but I'm happy to be surprised." He grinned thoughtfully, though it dissipated moments later when he looked at Brielle again, her eyes sad, though her expression was anything but. He loathed to be away from her, but such was the way of the world, and they did have a duty to the Grey Wardens that could not be ignored. There was much yet to do in the aftermath of the Blight, and there was no certainty that they would see each other again soon. 

"I suppose then," Brielle said slowly, her fingers tangling together before her. "I should probably get in as much time as I can before you're off."

"If only," he replied. "Anora has decided she needs time with me before I'm off early tomorrow morning. She thought it best I leave before Denerim awakens and realizes I'm gone."

Brielle was obviously put out, and before he could stop himself and keep up appearances, Loghain took her hand, resting it against his chest. The simple action caused Brielle's face to erupt in a bright blush, and before he could realize it, she pulled her hand from his, standing on her toes to throw her arms around his shoulders. She buried her face in the crook of his neck, hiding behind her hair, and Loghain stiffened, though it did not stop him from wrapping his arms around her waist, pressing his cheek to her hair. Her scent was intoxicating, and a comfort that he did not often allow, but when she was so close to him, holding onto him in a way he never thought to be held again, he gave in, letting her wash over him. 

Brielle could not bring herself to look at him in the least; she was always so careful with her emotions, and she felt foolish at even the smallest hint of affection, but she had let him know somehow. She needed him to know how she felt, no matter what came their way, and how she wanted to hold onto those emotions as long as they both allowed. A year had passed since Tamlen's disappearance, and while she was no closer to fully healing from it, she knew she could finally open her heart to another again. It only took the right circumstances, and for some reason, the Creators thought it best that she lay herself open again to the man who was once her enemy. They had a funny way of showing her they looked over her, but Brielle took it for what it was, and even if Loghain was not the one destined for her, she would make her own destiny. 

Slowly, she pulled away, her feet now flat on the ground, but her hands did not leave his shoulders, her fingers slowly finding the line of his jaw. It was a simple motion, but enough to pull forth a sigh from Loghain's lips as he savored her touch. How she longed to kiss him, to tangle her body against his without a thought in the world, but their situation was precarious at best, and she knew that fate would sooner tear them apart than allow them a moment of peace. Loghain had told her so already. 

She took a breath, but before she could say a word, someone within their vicinity cleared their throat, and immediately, Brielle dropped her hands to her side, taking a wide step away from Loghain, who likewise froze, crossing his arms over his chest. 

"Really subtle, you two," Surana said, a knowing grin flashing across her face. Brielle's expression remained impassive, and Loghain's was positively stony, but neither of them said a word, awaiting Surana's explanation for her sudden appearance.

"Your secret is safe with me," she continued nonchalantly, rummaging around in a pouch on her hip. "This is for something else."

It was then that she pulled out a cloth, within it wrapped something Brielle could not place. Carefully, Surana undid the bindings, and sitting on her palm were four identical red stones, each emitting a faint glow of magic. 

"What are they?" Brielle asked, and Surana's eyes glimmered mischievously. 

"You'd be amazed at the content the palace’s libraries have," she answered matter-of-factly. "There's a little bit of everything,  _ including  _ archives on magical technique. Anora was kind enough to leave it all at my disposal." Surana picked up the first stone, which Brielle now realized it was made into a pendant, and handed it off to Brielle, doing the same a moment later for Loghain. He looked at it with distaste, and Surana met his gaze coolly, as though challenging him to say something. 

"It's a sending crystal," she explained. "They're elven artifacts used to keep in communication with one another, no matter the distance. I managed to get my hands on some and modify them for our use." She paused, grinning at Brielle. "I  _ figured _ it would be helpful for the last Grey Wardens in Ferelden to be in touch, but that would mean I wouldn't be giving Leliana one as well."

"And these crystals," Loghain interjected, turning one over in his hand. The slight glow lit his pallid face, the shine of the crystal reflected in his eyes. "Neither Brielle nor I are mages. How can you guarantee they'll work?"

“That’s the beauty of it, Loghain,” Surana replied with a quirk of her brow. “It doesn’t require magic. There’s something within the very essence of the stone itself that allows for communication without the use of any sort of spell. My guess it some ancient, elven magic that hasn’t faded over the years.”

Brielle turned hers over in her palm, running her finger down the stone. “How did you get ahold of this? Not even my Keeper had this in her possession.”

Surana gave Brielle a cheeky wink. “ _ Blood magic _ . But that doesn’t matter; using them is relatively simple, so I’m told, and the distance you can communicate with one another is unknown. As far as I’m concerned, you could be anywhere in Thedas and  _ still _ be able to talk to one another.”

Brielle glanced at Loghain, who returned her look with raised brows. While she bit back a grin, she had no doubt that Surana had worked her magic specifically for something like this. Not for Brielle and Loghain, per say, but for the ability to talk to her friends whenever and wherever they might be. It made sense that Surana would give one to Leliana, considering their relationship, and Brielle, as her Warden-Commander. But to give one to Loghain, a man she may or may not see or work with again, was something she did entirely for Brielle’s sake.

“I think the way to make it work is to call the name of who you want to talk to,” Surana added, backing away slowly. Brielle could see Leliana awaiting her from the other side of the room, ready to retire for the night. “I’m sure you’ll be able to work these out, just don’t have too much fun.” She paused, still backing away, as though desperately trying to escape a conversation. Brielle laughed, rolling her eyes at her dear friend.

“ _ Go _ , your lady awaits you,” she said, sticking out her tongue. “Don’t leave her waiting on  _ our _ account.”

Surana’s face lit up and she trotted off, her attempts to be casual completely failing. There was too much happiness in her face, too much giddiness in her step, for her to be casual, but there was no reason she should hide it. Her love was infectious, an aura that spread from her in strong waves, washing over anyone in her path, and for Leliana to share in her affections, their power was overwhelming. Brielle couldn’t help but grin after them as they twirled each other around the hall before disappearing behind a door that led to their room.

Brielle stood in silence for a few minutes, unconsciously leaning against Loghain, the crystal pendant clutched tightly in her fist. It was over. It was all over. While they would have to clean up the stragglers, she wouldn’t have to worry about chasing after darkspawn again, and hopefully not in her lifetime. She could finally move forward, and not dwell on the darkness her past.

“She knows, doesn’t she.” When Loghain finally spoke, breaking the silence between them, it was not a question. He still stared ahead, his expression calculating, eyes fixed on the doors Surana and Leliana had escaped through. “She knows about, er,  _ this _ .”

He did not outright say it, but Brielle knew what he meant. “She was the first, I’m sure of it. Before even we knew.”

“I’m not surprised.” They were silent for a few moments longer, Brielle rested her head on his shoulder, feeling the weight of weariness upon her. It was late now, and she was ready as ever to fall into the plush bed afforded to her, to sink into an unbothered, dreamless sleep.

But she also didn’t want to leave Loghain.

“What now, then?” she asked, stifling a yawn behind her hand. “What about us?”

Loghain was silent for a moment, and his fingers weaved together with hers, giving her hand a small squeeze. “That is for fate to decide.”


	18. Chapter 18

“I hate this. I hate Amaranthine. I hate Vigil’s Keep. I hate shem. And I  _ especially  _ hate Oghren.”

Brielle was furious. She was covered from head to toe in darkspawn gore, the latest of dozens of attacks from separate darkspawn factions. Even six months after the archdemon’s demise, she was still fighting off the damned bastards day and night, and to make matters worse, these factions of darkspawn were intelligent, or at least, some of them were. She had no idea what the hell she was going to do about  _ that _ issue, nevermind the rumors of a creature called the Architect, as well as another called Mother. She didn’t have the willpower to continue on with this sort of thing, but it was expected of her, as Warden Commander of Ferelden.

Surana sighed beside her. As her second in command, Brielle was thankful to have the mage within her ranks, not only as a friend, but another elf to break the human presence. She, too, was not particularly happy with how Oghren was behaving, and truth be told, she would have given anything to kick him out of the Order. However, he had done nothing against the Wardens as a whole; it was his remarks toward both Velanna and Sigrun that enraged both she and Brielle.

“Is there nothing we can do about him?” Surana asked, her dark eyes casting a backward glance at the rest of their party. Like Brielle and herself, they too were covered in darkspawn blood and guts, courtesy of Surana’s magic that burst the creatures into thousands of pieces, the moment they drew anywhere near them. It was at the cost of their cleanliness, but her methods were all too efficient to be bothered with finding something a little  _ cleaner.  _

"As far as I'm concerned, probably not," Brielle sighed, running her hands through crusted over hair. She hissed as separate strands tugged when the rest did not move, and she would be happy to get to the baths as soon as they could. Already, the stink was burning her nose, and no doubt the denizens of Vigil's Keep could smell their approach from a mile away. "Throwing him out of the Order isn't something I can do, even as Warden Commander; Weisshaupt would have to get involved, and it could be months before they even decided to do anything about it."

"I see your point." She was silent as they tramped across the courtyard, her presence intimidating even to those she knew. There was a faint aura of blood that floated about her, enveloping her in a ruddy haze, and a good portion of the workers who fought tirelessly to maintain the keep kept their distance, watching her with suspicious eyes. There was no secret that Surana was a blood mage, and had she been a part of any other order, she would have no doubt been made tranquil or killed outright. However, becoming a Grey Warden kept her from such a fate, and her powers proved far more useful than the skills of much of the senior Wardens. 

"But to think," Surana continued as she and Brielle pulled further away and out of earshot from their group of recruits. "Velanna and Sigrun should not have to feel unsafe with him around. Do you know how many times I caught Oghren feeling up Morrigan, under the guise of steadying himself from falling? Or when Leliana and I shared a kiss, his comments made my skin crawl. Nobody deserves that."

Brielle nodded her assent, her jaw clenched. "I know, and it worries me. I know they're more than capable of handling themselves, but I don't want them to think I don't care. Maybe next time we're in the Deep Roads, we'll  _ accidentally  _ leave him there."

"Or push him into one of the bottomless caverns," Surana suggested. "I don't know what that Felsi woman saw in him to take him back."

Looking sheepish, Brielle rubbed the back of her neck, avoiding Surana's eyes. "That was probably my fault," she admitted. "He asked for help before I really knew the extent of his vulgarity. I only thought he had a drinking problem, not a 'respecting women' problem. I regret that now, seeing as he left her for the Grey Wardens."

Surana said nothing, and Brielle was grateful. She didn't know what kind of agony she was setting Felsi up for, and after getting to know Oghren more, there wasn't a day she didn't regret her decision. Still, there wasn't much she could do now, and she could only wish the best for her, wherever she was. 

Approaching the steps of the Keep, Brielle unstuck her hair from her brow, the darkspawn blood having dried it to her skin. There was only so much she could do to make herself presentable after what they had been through, and no amount of tugging would get her hair in a way that wouldn't draw ire wherever she went. Such was life, she supposed. 

"How is Leliana?" she asked as they alighted the stairs, and the change in Surana's posture was something to behold. She immediately perked up, a bright smile crossing darkspawn-stained features. Brielle grinned at her reaction, waggling her brows. "Should I expect a visitor soon?"

"Unfortunately, no," Surana replied dreamily, her thoughts dwelling on her love. "She has things she needed to take care of in Orlais, and can't make it here. Though," she paused, casting a glance at Oghren, who was deep in what appeared to be a raunchy discussion with the mage, Anders, "I suggested she stay away. Nothing against most of our allies, but I'd rather keep her from Oghren's company."

"That's fair."

Surana nodded, her nose wrinkling. "I'm going to meet her in Val Royeaux when this Vigil's Keep business is over with, though. She's about the only thing that would have me willingly go to Orlais."

Brielle laughed. She couldn't blame her, of course; not only did Orlais have a history of invading other nations, Ferelden being freed from them only 30 years ago, but she knew that their chevaliers had a habit of hunting her people for sport and profit, killing elves for fun. It was a bad look in her eyes, but when most of the world thought of elves as second class citizens anyway, it was difficult to get through to anyone to make things better. Anora and Alistair were a start in Ferelden, but that was still a long way from where they needed to be. 

"What about you?" Surana asked as they entered the keep. "What will you do?"

Brielle had thought long on what she would do when she was free of Vigil's Keep, and there was no doubt that one thing in particular stood out in her mind. "I'm going to disappear under mysterious circumstances," she said, half joking, half serious. "I don't want to be found after this is all said and done. I'm done with shemlen affairs; call me when there's another Blight."

Surana rolled her eyes. "That sounds about right," she mused. "You know you won't be able to hide from me though; I'll track you down."

"I'd expect no less. Naturally, I'll let a handful of people know where I'm at, and when I say a handful, I mean two people.  _ Maybe _ ."

"Loghain and I then, right?"

Brielle's stomach flipped, as it often did, when Loghain was mentioned. Of course she would let him know where she had gone, and if she could manage it, he would be right there with her. However, she hadn't heard from him in a few days, which was unlike him; she knew that he was traveling through darkspawn infested territories, and to speak to her through the crystals Surana gifted them might put him in a precarious situation. Still, she could not help but to worry, even if she knew how capable he was in a fight. 

"Right." She trailed off, feeling a twinge of pain in her upper back, near her left shoulder. The adrenaline from their battle had worn off by then, and Brielle slowly felt her muscles start to ache from the exertion, but this pain was no muscle ache that she was aware of. Twisting her arm over her shoulder, she felt for anything out of the ordinary, and was surprised to feel an angry sting when her fingers brushed over a tear in her armor where a bleeding wound sat upon her skin. 

"Hela, could you see what's going on back here," she said, turning her back to Surana. "I think something got me.

Surana pursed her lips, brown eyes narrowing. She pushed aside the fabric of Brielle's armor, taking a look. "It looks like something got you," she murmured. "Nothing too deep; it looks worse than it is. Just clean it up and you should be fine."

"Excellent," Brielle sighed fully. "Tell everyone to take the night off. We're going to have a good meal tonight."

\---------- 

Hours passed as Brielle locked herself in her room, separating herself from the rest of the Wardens. She was exhausted, and would love nothing more than to hand of the chain of command to Surana, but she could never do that to her. Her job required a lot, and while Brielle could easily handle it, it was not something she wanted, and people were counting on her to keep things running as smoothly as possible, no matter what came their way. She felt that it was a lot to live up to; she had only been a Warden for around a year and a half, and she still didn't know much about the Order's history, nor the dark secrets they kept hidden away. All she knew was how to kill darkspawn quickly and efficiently, and hardly a soul did it as well as she. 

Evening fast approached, and after dressing the wound on her back, albeit with much difficulty, she pulled an oversized shirt over her head, tucking the front into her breeches to prepare for the meal that night. Her uniform was being fixed by the Keep's blacksmiths and tailors, implemented with enchantments to better protect against darkspawn blades. She instructed her recruits to do the same; she feared there was much worse to come. 

Bathed and clean and comfortable, Brielle's hair fell in sheets down her back, out of its customary bun. It was supposed to be a night of relaxation, after all, and she didn't want to be caught in anything remotely reminiscent of her battle clothes. Exiting her room, she was not surprised to find Surana waiting on a bench on the opposite wall, her attention fixed on the book in her hand. It was a moment before she set it aside, pointed ears twitched as she heard Brielle approach, and with a satisfied grunt, she quickly snapped the book shut, shining eyes fixed on her friend. 

"Had I known you would wait for me," Brielle said, quirking a brow as she grinned, "I wouldn't have taken so long."

Surana rolled her eyes, waving a hand dismissively. "Don't worry about it. I was people-watching, mostly. The suspicion they meet me with is amusing, to say the least. It's as though they don't know what to make of me, the big,  _ scary maleficarum.  _ Will I turn and go mad one day? Will I become a dastardly abomination and destroy the entire keep?"

"I don't think you have it in you, Hela. You cry when you kill spiders."

She shook her head, rising to her feet. "I feel guilty, yeah, but crying is a bit  _ too _ far, Brielle. Regardless, there's already a bias against mages, and humans don't like elves all that much, either. Add in a bit of blood magic, and they act like you personally murdered Andraste in cold blood."

"I can't believe you've done this, Hela. You absolute heretic,  _ heathen _ . What would your parents say?"

Letting out a bitter bark of laughter, Surana led Brielle down the hall. "I would hope they'd be proud, but I hardly remember them. I was a small thing when they tore me away from my mother to drag me off to Kinloch." Outwardly, she did not appear bothered by her fate, but Brielle could see the pain in her eyes as they approached the main hall. It was not something she ever spoke of, only small snippets in passing, and every time it was ever mentioned, the conversation was cut abruptly short. There were still many things Hela Surana had to work through regarding her time in the Circle, and nothing so easily dismissed or disregarded. But she was still coming to terms that there were people she could trust now, and 25 years in the Circle could not be easily undone. 

Their companions were slowly emerging from their own rooms, all in varying states of comfort. Velanna let her hair down for once, dressed in robes reminiscent of a Keeper's attire. Nathaniel and Anders each wore a pair of breeches and a light linen shirt, and Oghren was much the same, though he decided to forego the shirt altogether. Sigrun wore something more akin to her Legion armor, though not quite as protective, and Justice emerged in the very same he always wore. Brielle knew that he wouldn't be joining them for a  _ meal _ , but he did enjoy debating the rest from time to time. 

The walk to the main hall was quick and short, and the Seneschal barred all visitors for the evening, at Brielle's request. It was not often they got a break from the goings on around them, and it dragged them down, both physically and mentally. In Brielle's case, there was hardly time to breathe between issues that, for some reason, needed  _ her _ attention, both during the Blight and in Amaranthine. It was as though she could solve each and every problem the shemlen gave her, when in truth, she didn't give a shit about what would happen to them. Why should she? They wouldn't give her a second glance had she not been the Hero of Ferelden, and countless times, she experienced their prejudices against her people. 

When they reached the main hall, the uncharacteristic silence sent shivers down Brielle's spine. In her time as a Warden, she learned not to trust dead silence, as that meant something more sinister was on the horizon. This was not the case, however, but she could hardly shake the feeling. 

"It looks like Varel held up his end," Brielle remarked as they paused, taking a quick glance around the room. "The Keep better be on fire before they let anyone in."

"Is that so?" Surana asked, a playful lilt to her voice. It was unlike her to tease, but the spark in her dark eyes gave Brielle pause. 

"What do you mean ' _ Is that so? _ '"

"You don't think Varel might have let someone's  _ scandalous paramour  _ into the keep, do you?" A knowing smirk spread across her lips, and Brielle found herself growing irritated at the lack of explanation. 

"What the hell are you talking about?"

Surana nodded to the left, and Brielle followed her gaze, eyes falling on someone who did  _ not  _ belong to the Wardens of Vigil's Keep. Her brows shot up, threatening to disappear in her hairline, and Brielle lost all thought of what was going on around her. She shot off toward the man with all the speed she could muster, and the moment he saw her, Loghain Mac Tir opened his arms, just in time to receive her as she threw herself at him with full strength. He didn't stagger when she collided with him, and Brielle soon wrapped her arms around his shoulders, burying her face in the crook of his neck. Her heart did a flip when he embraced her, just as strongly as she embraced him, and despite himself, he couldn't help but to twirl her, pressing his cheek against her soft hair. 

"Is this why I haven't heard from you, Loghain?" she asked into his neck, the feel of her lips against his skin causing the back of his neck to prickle. "Had to keep it secret to surprise the big, important Warden-Commander?"

Loghain snorted, ruffling Brielle's hair, and he pulled her away, icy eyes looking at her for the first time in months. "Partially, I suppose," he said thoughtfully. "To be fair, the land around Amaranthine is swarming with darkspawn; I didn't want to give away my position and potentially get unwanted attention."

Brielle slipped to the ground, though her hands rested on his face, thumbs running along his jaw. She could feel the stubble beneath her touch, prickling her fingers, and Loghain looked relaxed, despite the deep, dark circles beneath his eyes, and dare she say, happy? Regardless, a throat cleared behind her, and Brielle's hands immediately dropped to her side, glancing over her shoulder at the companions that lingered behind her.

"I wouldn't have taken you as allied with Loghain," Nathaniel commented dryly. "Considering you murdered my father, his closest ally."

Brielle raised a brow, looking at him flatly. "It wasn't my intention," she said. "Blights change a person."

Nathaniel nodded stiffly, though said nothing, and Brielle sighed, running a hand through her hair. "Go get yourself some food, I have some things I need to take care of. Hela, could you stay?"

She nodded, the rest of the Wardens shuffling off, and the three of them stood in relative silence, the familiarity of each other's company washing over them. Suddenly, they were transported back to a time when they were stuck in the wilderness, fighting off darkspawn left and right, pushing their way to Denerim to save all of Thedas. There was a certain comfort in each others company, even if the relationship between Surana and Loghain was still strained, and Brielle welcomed it, their familiarity easing her tension, even for a moment.

"Leadership looks good on you," Loghain remarked, giving Brielle a once over. Her lips curved into a mischievous smirk, but before she could say a word, Surana interjected. 

"Why are you here, Loghain?" she asked, casting a warning glance at Brielle, whose nose wrinkled at the interruption. "Weren't you recruiting Wardens for Ferelden's Order?"

Loghain looked at her, tilting his head. "I  _ was _ ," he said, a note of bitterness coloring his voice. "That is, until Weisshaupt decided to send me here before going to Montsimmard tomorrow." His bitterness turned into full on disdain at the thought. "Fitting, they send me to Orlais, of all places."

"I  _ could  _ intervene," Brielle remarked. 

Loghain raised a brow, half glancing at Surana, expecting her to say something to the opposite effect, but she said nothing, her brow furrowed in thought. "I doubt that would work," he sighed, looking back at Brielle. "This is Weisshaupt we're talking about. Grey Warden leadership."

Brielle huffed. "I'll listen to them when they slay an archdemon and live to tell the tale," she hissed. "You would think that counts for something."

"Perhaps, but I doubt they see it that way," Loghain offered. "I did bring some armor and weapons that still remained in the vaults in Denerim; they'll be more use to you than me."

Brielle nodded, but could do nothing to hide the disappointment on her face. She had, likely, less than a day to see Loghain, and in the past six months since the archdemon's death, she could count on one hand how many times they had seen each other. She could not hide her feelings from either him or Surana, and the latter cleared her throat, drawing both their attention to her. 

"I have business in Orlais," she began thoughtfully. "I could go in your stead."

Brielle looked at her skeptically. "We need you here, Hela. No one has exactly the power you do."

"True, but my power scares the humans and I think a few of them have half a mind to call the templars on me." She grimaced. "I'll be out of their hair, and Loghain can take my place, avoiding Orlais altogether. "

Loghain frowned. "As willing as I am to take you up on that offer, I doubt your recruits will be willing to work with me."

Brielle snorted. "One is a Dalish mage who doesn't give a fuck about shem, one is a dwarf belonging to the Legion of the Dead. Then you have an escaped Circle mage, a spirit in a dead Warden's body, Oghren, and Howe's son. We're not exactly a likeable bunch as it is."

Loghain pondered the offer, looking at each of the women in turn. While he was not entirely convinced that Brielle's recruits wouldn't pay him any mind, the thought of going to Orlais without her left a bitter taste in his mouth. It was an easy enough trade out, and Montsimmard was still getting a Warden within their ranks, and an adept mage at that. They could hardly complain, if truth be told, and if they did, Brielle could spin a convincing tale as to why she kept him in Vigil's Keep, rather than let him go.

"Very well," he said with a nod, and Brielle's features immediately brightened. "If you wish to arrive at Montsimmard at the time given, you will have to leave tomorrow morning." He paused, searching the pouch on his hip for a badly crumpled piece of parchment, bearing the official seal of the Grey Wardens. "This has everything you need to know."

Surana nodded, taking the summons. "You owe me, Loghain," she said, quirking a brow before turning to Brielle. "I'll see you at dinner. 

Loghain rolled his eyes but said nothing, and Brielle nodded, waving as Surana sauntered off, head held high. She was thankful her friend volunteered to go to Montsimmard in Loghain's stead, even though they were not particularly friendly, but it was all too obvious she was doing this for Brielle and not for him. She was never vocal about the strain their distance put on her, and even when Surana asked, Brielle was quick to brush it off as unimportant. She did not want to put pressure on anyone to comfort her in the midst of a war with the darkspawn, and Brielle thought it was rather silly to focus on such a thing than the task at hand. Either way, she was never very obvious about her own relationships, or at least she tried not to be, and didn't like to divulge that to anyone.

"She's opened up more, hasn't she?" Loghain observed, watching Surana depart with a creased brow. "I can't say that she has  _ ever _ addressed me so... _ informally. _ "

Brielle nodded, casting her gaze back to him. "She has a bit, yes. I think Wynne traveling with us put her on edge….like she was going to report Hela to the templars for blood magic the moment she had the chance. I can't imagine seeing her really helped her Circle-caused anxiety. They have  _ really _ different views; Wynne thinks perfect obedience will keep them in good graces with the templars while Hela wanted to study magic without someone breathing down her neck."

"And she's a blood mage."

"Don't pretend that bothers you, Loghain," Brielle warned, rolling her eyes. "You  _ did _ send Jowan after Eamon. You know, a  _ blood mage _ ."

That shut Loghain up, his expression unreadable, but he knew there was nothing he could say against it. He  _ did _ send a blood mage after Eamon a year ago, after all. 

"So," Brielle continued, as though the last exchange didn't happen. "You're staying, then. Did you bring anything other than the weapons from the vault?"

Loghain shook his head. "Nothing but a small pack with traveling supplies and unused night clothes. The darkspawn in these parts don't allow the comforts of a good night's rest, as you know."

"Then moving you in will be quick," she said with a grin. "Come on, I'll show you where you can sleep, and then we can join the rest for dinner. I told them to take the night off; as far as our scouts have seen, the darkspawn aren't anywhere near us for the moment, so I figured why not."

Brielle tugged on his elbow, beckoning for him to follow, and he paused only to pick up his pack from the ground, weathered leather stained with blood and dirt, the consequences of travel. They disappeared through the door Brielle arrived from not ten minutes prior, and now that they were alone, she could she how Loghain's shoulders slouched, weariness overtaking him. The journey through Amaranthine and the surrounding lands was perilous as of late, the threat of attack and ambush around every corner, and to think he made it to Vigil's Keep without any visible injuries was a feat within itself. 

"You didn't come with other Wardens," Brielle observed as they alighted the first flight of stairs. 

"No. Either they didn't think it was important enough to send one of their own to  _ watch _ me, or they didn't trust me to not mess something up, should another Warden arrive."

"Trust is a hard earned thing, especially with  _ your _ past, Loghain," she said, looking at him as they came to a stop at the top of the stairs, pausing to face each other. She hesitated for a moment when his eyes met hers, and her fingers wrung together. "I'm still not entirely sure that I  _ should _ trust you. Common sense would tell me not to."

He sighed. "Common sense is there for a reason, but that's not what I remember from the night before the battle for Denerim."

Brielle's face grew hot, and she had to look away, beckoning him to follow. No matter what their past was, part of her even wondered if his interest still held. They spoke quite often, though the crystals Surana gifted them, but there was only a small handful of times that they met with each other in the last six months, and even then, it was short and bittersweet. Would the demands of their position force them further apart? She sincerely hoped not, but there hadn't been a whole lot of good to come to her over the last year and a half, and she couldn't help but to feel anxiety over it. 

"I remember," she said softly, leading him down the length corridor. She bowed her head, hair falling in her face and obscuring it from view. A tension rose between them as the continued walking, and Loghain briefly touched her shoulder, trying to ease her in any way he could. Truth be told, their time apart made him awkward, doubting himself whenever he looked at her. Did she want him to touch her? Would she allow him to? He felt her stiffen when his hand rested on her shoulder, and for a moment, Loghain thought she might throw him off, but seconds later, she sighed, her shoulders relaxing. It was a good sign, just one Loghain did not know how to interpret. 

Doors lined both sides, spaced apart just enough to allow a decent sized room beyond them. About halfway down, there was a door that hung slightly ajar, and Brielle stopped abruptly and without warning, forcing Loghain to do the same, else he'd topple right over her. When she spun on her heel, her expression was changed into something bright, happy almost, and she pushed further on the door, swinging it all the way open. The room inside was a decent size, nothing too extravagant, but comfortable and homey, perfect for a weary traveler. 

"I hope it's alright," she said, standing aside to let him pass through. "It's not much, but it's a warm, clean bed and assurance that you're not going to get stabbed in your sleep." She paused, wrinkling her nose. "Well, Justice may; he's a spirit of justice, and you becoming a Warden might not seem like justice to him."

"Oh, I'm thrilled," he said dully, tossing his pack aside. "I'll be sure to sleep with one eye open, then."

Brielle snorted. "Or, I'm right down the hall, if you need the big, bad Warden-Commander to protect you."

She watched him, leaning against the door frame, her eyes glinting mischievously. His features were impassive as he looked at her, but he raised a brow, rolling his eyes soon thereafter, and Loghain chuckled dryly, running his hand over his face. 

"That won't be necessary, Brielle, but I appreciate the thought."

"Anytime," she said, grinning cheekily. "Why don't you get dressed in something more comfortable and we can go get something to eat? I'll have the smiths look at your armor and repair it later. They've probably gone in for the night."

Loghain hesitated before nodding. "I'd like that."


	19. Chapter 19

Dinner came and went without issue, though she was almost certain that a fistfight was going to break out between Loghain and Oghren, just like old times. Brielle couldn't remember what exactly caused it, only that something Oghren said had Loghain all but throwing himself at the dwarf, eyes enraged. Had she known any better, she would have thought Oghren said something about Brielle that she did not hear, but no one was willing to admit to her what happened. They were both formidable warriors, and frightening if in the right element, and understandably, they wished to keep the peace, if only for one night. 

It was late into the night before they started trickling off to bed, either heavily inebriated, or far too tired to function properly. Brielle and Loghain were the last to depart, lingering behind not only to tidy up the mess to ease the load of the Keep's servants, but also to catch up on the time they passed away from one another. Soon, the familiarity they once felt came back to them, and they quickly became comfortable in one another's presence, as though not a moment of time had passed since they last met. It was a comfort Brielle longed for in her time at Vigil's Keep; Surana's company was a blessing, and she was glad to have her by her side throughout all that was happening, but Loghain being there gave her a happiness that Surana couldn't give her. They were friends, but Brielle and Loghain were something more. 

After the hall was tidied up to the best of their abilities, they parted ways, each disappearing into their respective rooms. Brielle was the first to retire, but there was something lingering in Loghain's eyes that gave her pause before disappearing through her door. It was a look of longing, of closeness. She did not want him to part from her, but she saw little they could do about it now. Both of them were zombies on their feet for the moment, and needed well earned rest.

Still Brielle did not sleep. She could not. For what felt like an hour, she paced her room, the injury on her back itchy and bothersome. Fed up, she peeled off her shirt and unbandaged the wound. The pad already bled through, even for the few short hours between its last change, and she carefully cleaned it with a stinging mixture of alcohol and healing herbs Surana whipped up for her. She gritted her teeth at the painful sensation, letting it sit for a few moments before wiping off the excess tincture, and she searched for another pad to cover the wound, hidden among her things. However, before she could find one, a soft knock interrupted her and she looked over her shoulder, stomach knotting. There was only one person who came to mind that would come knocking on her door at this hour, and Brielle could only hope her gut instinct was correct. Quickly, she picked up her fallen shirt, covering her chest, before she said softly:

"The door is open."

She turned away as it creaked open, still searching through her things for another bandage. Even without looking, she could tell Loghain entered, just by the sound of his steps, and soon thereafter, the door creaked again, shutting with a click. The bolt ground in the socket as the lock was turned, and she was relieved that she didn't have to ask him to lock it.

"That cut looks nasty," he said gruffly, and Brielle finally looked over her shoulder, a wry grin curving her lips. 

"It's not as bad as it looks," she said simply, eyes shining. Before her, a fire crackled, casting them both in a warm, orange glow. Despite his weariness, the fire's light took the pallor from his skin, and Loghain looked more alive than she had ever seen him. 

"Indeed," he said, crossing the room, careful to keep his eyes on her face. Her bare back drew him, however, and he saw what appeared to be the beginning of a tattoo to match the vallaslin on her face, starting opposite to the shoulder which was still bleeding. He sunk down on the foot of her bed, hands folded together and resting between his knees.

"You say that, though if I remember correctly, you have a habit of taking hits harder than I have seen any seasoned warrior take. Forgive me for not believing it's not  _ as bad  _ as it looks."

Brielle gave him a look and he grinned, shrugging. "I can also pack a punch, Loghain Mac Tir. I can demonstrate if you'd like."

"That won't be necessary; I believe it wholeheartedly." He paused, watching her struggle with wrapping her wound single-handedly while holding a shirt up to cover her chest. Silence hung between them only a moment longer, before Loghain asked, "Would you like some help with that?"

Brielle looked at him, less than pleased that she had to ask for help, but nodded. "That would be...yes. Please." She picked up the bandaging as he rose from his seat, meeting her halfway, and when she handed off the supplies, she turned, pulling her hair over her shoulder to keep it out of the way. Loghain touched the area gingerly, the skin inflamed and warm. 

"You cleaned it beforehand, yes?" he asked. 

"I'm not an idiot," she grunted, hissing as he prodded her. "Of course I did."

"I was only making sure," Loghain replied. "I know you well enough to know you'd clean it, but it never hurts to ask." With a rag, he dabbed off the remnants of the antiseptic, and he placed the bandage carefully over the wound, with just enough slack that if she bent oddly, it wouldn't tear off.

Brielle was pleasantly surprised by his gentleness, shivering as calloused hands ran over smooth skin. The wound was still hurting her, but she would deal with it as she dealt with anything else: ignoring it unless it was absolutely necessary. Even as he finished though, his hands loomed upon her, and Brielle's head lolled to the side, the sensation comforting. Unconsciously, she leaned against him, pressing her back to his chest, testing the waters. Though she felt him stiffen, he relaxed a moment later. However, he withdrew his hands, and Brielle looked up at him, watching with raised brows. 

"Something on your mind, Loghain?"

His brow furrowed as he felt her pull away, and she faced him completely, her arms clutching the shirt to her chest. There was no hiding it from her; bright blue eyes swept over him like a probe, garnering his thoughts, his feelings. Loghain was practiced in keeping his face an impassive mask, as years in the court would require of him, and keeping his emotions in check went along with. 

"Many things, Brielle," he sighed softly, looking away. His eyes fixed on the fire, quite aware that her gaze on him did not waver. "And not a single one does not involve you."

Despite herself, a small grin curved her lips. She reached for his hand, tangling her fingers with his, and she tugged on it lightly, drawing his attention back to her. His brow was creased, and he frowned deeply, but the look in his eyes was nothing less than adoration. It brought a warmth to Brielle, one that spread from the recesses of her very soul to the tips of her fingers and toes, and she ran her thumb along his gently, encouraging him to speak. 

"Tell me," she said. "I want to know."

He hesitated, uncertain. It didn't feel like the right time, but neither had any time they were together since the first time they shared a kiss. There was always something, whether it be a mission tasked by the Wardens or straggler darkspawn that seemed to pop up whenever their conversation became serious. There was always an excuse, a reason to hide his feelings and prolong his admission a little longer. But, now, in the dead of night in her room, with Brielle staring so intently at him, he could not hide, not anymore. Nor did he want to, he soon realized. He was given a second chance the moment she stayed her head in their duel. She gave him a chance to redeem himself. 

She gave him a chance to fall in love.

"You would have thought that I asked you to march into Orlais and declare your undying devotion to their country," Brielle laughed, arching a brow. His expression was an odd mix of longing and disdain, and it looked out of place in the privacy of her quarters. "I can't say I've seen you make  _ that _ face since before defeating the archdemon."

Loghain balked, regaining his composure a moment later. "I know you're aware about my, er,  _ undying thrill  _ when it comes to talking about myself, much less my feelings, Brielle," he offered, rolling his eyes when her grin widened, the knowing expression on her face enough to warm the tips of his ears. "Stop looking at me like that, I  _ know _ you know where this is going."

She laughed, but grew serious soon thereafter. "I do, and I expected this the moment I saw you in the Keep."

"Indeed." He was silent, allowing himself a small grin. "Truth be told, I never thought I'd end up in a situation like this after my wife died, Brielle, so forgive me if things don't…string together, so to speak."

Brielle shook her head. "I'm not going to think of you any differently if you trip over your words. I know you well enough to see that it isn't a strength of yours; it's okay."

Loghain sighed, bowing his head. His hand wiggled out of hers, and he rested both of his on her shoulders, one sliding to the crook of her neck, calloused and weathered hands brushing soft skin. He ran his thumb over her jaw gently, refusing to meet her intense gaze. His eyes swept over her face, from the dark hair that obscured part of her brow, to the vallaslin that marked it. From her long, straight nose to dark lips that were curved in a constant grin, a grin that drew him in like a bee to honey. Even now, he was faltering in his thoughts, the ever present linger of her eyes on his face bringing upon him a nervousness he had not felt since Anora's mother, Celia, was alive. 

"You should hate me for all I've done," he said softly, finally bringing himself to look in her eyes. "I've done so many things that would have earned me death from anyone else."

"Do you want me to hate you?"

He paused. "No."

"Then we're on the same page." Brielle rested her hand on his, running her thumb along his skin gently. She was patient, and though her own heart longed to blurt out her own feelings, feelings she harbored for what felt like a century, it was clear there were things he wanted to get out as well. He seemed bothered, fighting an internal battle between what logic told him and what his heart demanded. 

"The blood of thousands are on my hands," he said. 

"You say that like I haven't killed, either."

"I'm a traitor in the eyes of Ferelden."

"And yet I spared you so you could strengthen the Wardens and atone for what you've done. We've been through this a dozen times, at least, Loghain. You'll have to do better to deter me."

He paused, frowning. She bested him at every turn. She was clever as she was powerful, and her sharp eyes could see right through him as he tried to push her away, no matter what his feelings told him. She had so much to live for, yet. Why waste her time on a man like him? A traitor and failure. Whatever appealed to her in him, he could not see. 

"Does my age not bother you?"

Now, he was being ridiculous. She gave him a look that said, undeniably clearly,  _ really _ , and he shrugged sheepishly, grimacing. 

"By the Creators, if your age bothered me, I would have said something before. Clearly it doesn't." She paused. "Loghain, what do  _ you _ want? You're so focused on what I may or may not want that you're not focusing on what you want. I asked you once, what it was you wanted, and you told me exactly what it was. Now, I'm asking you the same, and I hope you can tell me what it is without deflecting."

Her eyes were bright, alight with a fire that became all too common for Loghain, as it was a look she reserved for him, and him alone. 

"I suppose the truth can't be hidden any longer," he chuckled defeatedly. "You've caught me by the mouth, Brielle, or perhaps the heart. Either way, I cannot deny what it has been telling me since before we shared that kiss, months ago. Brielle, I--" He paused looking at her, both hands now resting on her face, and rested his brow against hers, breathing deeply. Her scent was overwhelming, pervading his senses in the dead of night, and feeling her skin in his hands sent a thrill through him that little else could. For the first time in years, he felt unsure, and if he was honest with himself, a little nervous. 

He cleared his throat. "It's you," he admitted, and the joy that suddenly crossed her face instilled within him a new hope, a confidence that he could continue. "It's you that I want. Nothing has been so clear to me, nothing has forced itself into my head like you have. I would have you, if you would have me, but I fear…" He paused, frowning. "I fear I am not worthy of you, Brielle Mahariel."

Brielle raised a brow, shaking her head. She drew a breadth closer, standing on her toes to stand at his level as best as she could, her bright blue eyes staring into melted shards of ice when Loghain fixed his gaze on her. "That's for me to decide, Loghain."

Her shirt fell when she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, jumping into his arms as she kissed him fully on the mouth. He stiffened in surprise; Loghain had not expected such a response from her, but who was he to deny her what she wanted. Of course, he couldn't deny himself either, and he was more than happy to oblige her as she pressed against him, pushing him backward. The back of legs soon collided against her bed, and it was when he sat upon it that Brielle broke the kiss, a deep, rosy blush spread across her face. It was cute, to say the very least, and she bit her lip, looking away bashfully. 

"Listen, I'm willing to jump right into things," she said softly, brushing a strand of hair out of his face. "But I understand if it's too quick, and I don't want to force you into anything you're not prepared for."

Loghain couldn't help but laugh, pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it aside. "And here I thought  _ I  _ would be the one saying that to you, Brielle. I can assure you, you're pressuring me into  _ nothing. _ "

Brielle blinked. "So you mean you want to…" She did not finish the statement, nor did she have to. He took her hand, pressing his lips to her knuckles.

"Nothing would honor me more."

He glanced at her, turning her hand over and pressed another kiss to her wrist. The happiness that radiated from her was unlike anything he had ever seen, and his lips curved into a lazy smirk, savoring her emotions. It was beyond him how he could make her feel like this, but it brought him just as much joy to see her in such a light. He never thought he could find love again, nor did he mean to, but Brielle coming into his life was a blessing he did not deserve, but a blessing he would make the most of.

Not for his sake, but for hers. 

Brielle watched as he trailed kisses up her arm, trying her best to keep her composure, but the happiness that radiated from her core was far too much to keep to herself. She wanted Loghain to know her thoughts, how she was feeling and as he kissed the crook of her arm, she laughed, drawing his gaze to her. 

"My,  _ my _ , Loghain. I do believe you've seduced me."

He chuckled, pulling her toward him, and she stood between his legs as he looked up at her curiously. 

"Perhaps it was you who seduced me."

Brielle's grin grew dangerous, and suddenly, she pushed him flush against the mattress, eagerly crawling atop him. She straddled his lap, planting a hand on either side of his head, and her hair fell over her shoulder in cascades, settling near his face like a small pool of silken strands.

"Maybe both? The  _ scandal _ ." She grinned suggestively as Loghain propped himself up. He would not have it so easy, however, as she straddled his lap suddenly, and she felt him stiffen beneath her, in more ways than just one. "How do you intend to remedy your crime?"

He looked at her in silence, lost in thought. He could think of many ways to 'remedy' the situation, so to speak, and he would love to try each and every one with Brielle that very night. By the devious look on her face, she was prepared to do exactly that, but that wasn’t exactly what Loghain had in mind. He wanted to show her just how much he appreciated her, even if that meant taking the entire night.

He held her cheek, entangling fingers into her hair as he kissed her, and Brielle eagerly melted against him, kissing him as deeply as he would allow. She moved her hips against his in a shameless manner, and he groaned into the kiss, his hand in her hair tightening almost painfully. But it felt good and Brielle wanted more.

“ _ Well? _ ” she asked, breaking away, the playful lilt of her voice teasing him as she pressed another kiss to the corner of his mouth. He hummed thoughtfully, running a hand along the length of her waist, his fingers digging into her thigh hungrily. Her skin flushed red as he traced the curve of her neck with his lips, peppering kisses along her collarbone, her chest. He paused briefly at the swell of her breasts, his nose tracing lines against her skin softly, and she arched her back as though to encourage him. Her arms rested on his shoulders and she twirled his hair between her fingers, tugging ever so lightly. He grinned, his eyes flickering to hers briefly. She watched him with ardent intensity, biting her lip in wait, and he pressed a kiss to her breast, sighing into her skin contentedly.

"I do believe I have an idea."

\----------

Brielle groaned, her eyes fluttering open.

The curtains of her window were drawn, but she could see the first rays of sunlight peeking through. She wouldn't be needed for a while yet, or so that was the hope, and she loathed to part from the comfort of her bed, the safety it imparted upon her.

Loghain slumbered on, his arms wrapped loosely around her waist, his face nuzzled against her chest. They were a comfortable tangle of bedding and limbs, pressed together as though the moment they came apart, the universe itself would tear them away from one another. Brielle buried her face in his hair, closing her eyes. She was absolutely euphoric; the night before still lingered in her mind, and the mere thought of Loghain treating as he had sent her heart racing. He continually surprised her in the best ways, though considering his age, she should have known, but the stoic and reserved man who now laid in her arms was a completely different man when he was alone with her. He was vulnerable with her, gentle and loving, but his snark remained ever-intact, and it could pull a laugh from her even at the worst of times. 

Brielle still had trouble wrapping her mind around it, however. She never thought she might find comfort it someone’s arms again, and when she opened her eyes to see Loghain, still sleeping peacefully against her, she wondered if it was just a dream. It was a silly notion, the more she thought about it. Brielle still had many years before her, and to think she might be alone the entire time was foolish thought. Of course, she wasn’t looking for someone to spend her life with;Tamlen’s death ripped her apart, and part of her  _ didn’t _ want to find anyone else. But sometimes blessings come disguised as an old, disgruntled warrior, and she wouldn’t trade it for the world.

Loghain stirred against her, groaning. Brielle brushed hair out of his face as he blinked the sleep out of his eyes, and he looked at her groggily, his nose wrinkled.

“That time already?” he mumbled, shifting himself slightly. He did not let her go, instead pulling her closer, arms wrapped tightly around her waist. 

“Just about,” she said softly, kissing his brow gently. “I imagine we’ll need to speak to Hela before she leaves. I don’t want to miss her if she’ll be gone for a while.”

Loghain huffed, burying his face in her chest again, unwilling to get up. He knew she was right, naturally; she was right more times than he could admit, but that didn’t stop him from holding her tight. Brielle ran her fingers through his hair gently, and he kissed her chest, trailing soft lines against her collarbone.

Brielle laughed. “I don’t think my body can handle any more quite yet,” she said, wiggling in his arms. He pulled away lazily, half-lidded eyes looking at her sleepily. “I’m surprised I can even feel my legs this morning.”

He grinned, shrugging nonchalantly. “You deserve it, Brielle,” he teased, stealing a kiss. “What else was I supposed to do?”

Brielle shook her head, rolling her eyes. “You did fine by me. I just didn’t expect it.”

Loghain shifted again, this time rolling Brielle onto her back, and he positioned himself above her, supporting his weight with one arm while his other hand tangled in her hair. He kissed her, and Brielle would be lying if she said he hadn’t surprised her again, but she regained her composure not a moment later, leaning into the kiss and pressing her chest to his. She bit his lip as he pulled away, and there was a moment that he hung above her, looking at her as though he was truly seeing her for the first time. Brielle almost couldn’t look at him, with the way he looked at her, but it was when he smiled that her eyes widened, as though she was seeing a brand new man.

“Is something wrong?” Loghain’s brow creased as she watched him, her eyes sweeping arcs over his face in a mixture of confusion and wonder. She blinked when he spoke, and shook her head quickly, running her hand along his cheek.

“No, nothing,” she said softly, tracing his cheekbone with her thumb. “It’s just...I’ve  _ never _ seen you smile like that before. It was...I don’t know how to describe it, but…” She paused, looking away as she felt her cheeks grow warm. “You should do that more often.”

“ _ Ah _ ,” he said, raising his brows, and the grin returned a moment later. “I find that I have more reasons to do so now, Brielle, though I can’t imagine what that could be.”

“Oh,  _ right _ , who knows?” she replied, playing along. “Whatever could  _ possibly _ make the grumpy, mean, old teryn smile so happily?”

At this point, he could not longer keep going. Loghain laughed, rolling back to his side, and Brielle took her chance to roll on top of him, peppering his face with soft, sweet kisses. It felt so alien to do so, and even when he wrapped his arms around her, returning her many kisses with one of his own, she still had to wonder if the Fade wasn’t playing cruel tricks on her. Brielle had seen too much in the past year and a half to trust anything, but to feel at peace in Loghain’s arms was just enough to cause her not to care.

“Brielle, you know  _ exactly _ what makes this old man smile so happily,” he said, tracing circles on her back. “Don’t even try to deny it.”

“I would  _ never _ ,” she replied, feigning innocence, though her face grew serious soon thereafter. “Except to probably  _ everyone _ we know, for the time being, at least. I want to finish our mission here without anyone getting... _ distracted,  _ you know?”

He chuckled, kissing her throat. “I hope that doesn’t mean  _ me _ too,” he said.

“ _ Especially _ you...vhenan.”

Confusion spread across his face when she spoke the elven language, and Brielle looked away quickly, brows knitted together when her face turned beet red. She did not mean for it to slip, but she was thinking it, and now she had to explain to Loghain exactly what it was she meant. It could have been worse, and it certainly wasn’t a lie, but Brielle was never the romantic type, and even one small word was more than she ever said, romantically. Still, when she looked back at Loghain, something in his eyes told her that he knew she said something out of the norm.

“ _ Vhenan _ …” he repeated, rolling the words on his tongue. “You’ll have to forgive me, but my knowledge of the elven language is little to none. What does it mean?”

Brielle cleared her throat, looking sheepish. “It’s a term of endearment,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “It means ‘heart’.”

Not a second later, he grinned, and Brielle had to cover his face with her hands to keep herself from embarrassment. He didn’t press her, thank the Creators, and instead, he held her closer, kissing the palms of her hands as they covered his mouth. She spread her fingers, seeing his eyes through the gaps, and she sighed, sliding them to the sides of his face and running her thumbs along his cheekbones. He grew serious, though his eyes shined with an adoration that Brielle was not quite used to, and she wiggled in his arms, resting her head in the crook of his neck.

“I’ll be relieved when this is all over,” Brielle sighed, nuzzling her nose against his neck. “It feels like there’s no end in sight.”

He said nothing, but rubbed her back gently, the feeling of his calloused hands causing goosebumps to prickle on her skin. To acknowledge the day was to acknowledge they would like be torn apart again, and Brielle’s duties as a Warden were weighing on her heavily. Of course, had she not become a Warden, this would have never happened, so it couldn’t be all bad.

“What do you intend to do, when this is over?” Loghain asked. “I have a feeling that you won’t take to Weisshaupt commands, no matter what they say.”

“Whatever do you mean?” Brielle jested. “Me, disregard orders? Perish the thought.”

“Oh naturally,” he replied. There was no lack of sarcasm coloring his voice, and Brielle had to stifle a laugh or give herself away. “But what do you intend to do?”

“Find my clan, if I can,” she admitted, more serious than before. “Recruit some more Wardens, I suppose. Travel.” She paused, looking at Loghain again. “I’d hope you’d come with me, Loghain. The road gets awfully lonely and cold.”

Loghain squeezed her tightly. “I think I could manage that.”


	20. Chapter 20

“Shhh...shh, shh,  _ shhhh _ ...”

Brielle pressed her finger to her lips as she slid silently down Vigil’s Keep’s darkened hall, elven eyes glowing something fierce in the minimal light. She led Loghain by the hand, their fingers laced together as they stepped quietly down the carpeted walkway, on alert for any on-duty guards, wishing to avoid any sort of confrontation they could. It was a difficult affair, as Loghain’s heavy plate clanked awkwardly against itself, the metallic grating carrying down the stoned walls, but Brielle had an inkling they would not be heard, not tonight.

With the Mother defeated, the entirety of the Keep decided it would be a night for celebrating, before rebuilding began. Casks upon casks of alcohol were rolled into the dining halls, carted by humans, elves, and dwarves of all kinds, each laden with their own special sorts of brew. Brielle had excused herself early in the evening; though she made plans to escape the Keep that night, her showdown with the Mother kept her visibly shaken. Ever since her first visit to the Deep Roads, searching for the Paragon, Branka, she had been unable to get the vision of the Broodmothers out of her head, the mere thought of them enough to send and uneasy shiver down her spine. The Mother was not so different. She was everything the others were, but with one distinct trait that set her apart from the rest: she was sapient. To think that the creatures used to create more darkspawn were once people like Brielle was one thing that felt like a punch in the gut every time it came up, but to know that the Mother was one in the same, gone mad with the freedom from the Old Gods’ song, was something else entirely. While Brielle was able to push that aside in order to kill her once and for all, soon after the adrenaline wore off, she was a mess of shaking and tears, unable to compose herself in the sight of the creature’s corpse. As soon as she could, she was ushered back to Vigil’s Keep to recover, and she locked herself in her room for hours after, Loghain being the only person given access to her quarters.

“I hope you have a plan to get us out of here,” Loghain grumbled, glancing over his shoulder as they pressed forward, not entirely convinced that they were not being followed. While he was given no reason to believe one of the Keep’s denizens had left their quarters to make sure Brielle stayed in command, there was always a nagging doubt in the back of his mind that it could be true. Brielle hushed him further, squeezing her fingers around his as she tugged him along, leading him down one of the unused, side hallways that led them out of the building without passing through the main hall.

“I have two warhorses waiting for us,” she whispered hurriedly, her pace quickening. “I came by earlier when the stables were abandoned for the celebration and strapped our things to them. They’ll be ready.”

He grunted his approval, and said no more as they slipped through a side door and out into the brisk air. It was not winter, but the night still brought the bitterness of cold upon them. The sky was cloudy, obscuring both moon and stars, giving them a better cover of darkness to plan their escape. If she didn’t know better, Brielle might have thought rain would soon fall; the air had the telltale smell of an oncoming storm, and thunder rumbled in the distance as they made their way quietly across the courtyard.

“Rainfall would cover our escape,” Loghain remarked thoughtfully, turning his gaze to the sky. “While I don’t relish in soaking, if it puts the Keep farther away from us, I have no qualms against it.”

Brielle grinned. “I don’t know if they expect any more from me,” she said as they approached the stable, and her hand slipped from Loghain’s as she unlatched the gate, ushering him inside as she checked for followers. “But I think I’ve given enough for one lifetime, don’t you?” Following him over the threshold, she snapped the gate shut again, squinting as her eyes adjusted to an even thicker darkness than before. Loghain stood at the center of the stables, straining to find the horses she had mentioned; it was difficult, without a lantern of any sort, but he knew it could potentially give away their position, should they light one. 

Brielle, however, had no issue finding her chosen steeds. She brushed past Loghain toward the farthest part of the stables, nearest the door which the animals could exit, and he soon followed her, staying only a few paces back from where she walked. He was still unsure that they were not alone, but Brielle was not concerned. Approaching the first of the horses, she ran her hand down the length of its snout, feeling it snort against the palm of her hand when she rested it on its soft nose. It pawed at the ground impatiently, awaiting their departure. A good part of the evening, it had been waiting, eager to stretch its legs across the countryside, and Brielle couldn’t blame it. She, too, was ready to escape the fate she’d been given, ready to start a life she could completely call her own, no matter what the Wardens wanted of her. It wasn’t her choice in the first place to join their ranks; being at the wrong place at the wrong time had altered the course of her destiny, but as Loghain stepped behind her, enveloping her in his thick, black cloak, she supposed it wasn’t all  _ that _ bad.

Craning her neck, she looked up, watching as Loghain peered at her from down his long nose, icy eyes visible even in the faintest of light. She felt her cheeks warm, thankful that he could not see it, and she absentmindedly reached for his arms, drawing them around her shoulders in a comforting gesture. He was impossibly warm, which was a good thing, considering the cold, Ferelden nights, and she sighed happily, letting her eyes flutter shut as she rested her head against his chest.

“ _ Finally _ ,” she murmured wearily. “I’ve done enough world-saving for a while; I think it’s time to retire.”

Loghain chuckled, and she slipped from underneath his cloak, though refusing to let go of his hand. She opened the gate to the first horse’s stable, running her free hand along its neck as she moved to the saddle, prepared to mount.

“I don’t think people like us ever truly get to experience peace, Brielle,” Loghain said truthfully, offering her a hand up. “War is doomed to find us, wherever we hide.”

She grimaced, waving his hand away as she placed her foot in the stirrup, pulling herself up onto her horse with ease. “Let me have this moment, I beg you,” she said grumpily, though she could not push away the feeling that he was probably right. Still, when he approached her, running his hand along the length of the horses neck, she touched his face gently, brushing the tips of her fingers against his sharp jawline. How odd, it felt, to be so tender with someone after such a long time. So vulnerable. She watched as his eyes fluttered closed, a sigh escaping parted lips.

“Fine,” he murmured, grinning crookedly. “You win this time. I--”

His words were cut short as Brielle bent over, kissing him deeply, her hands entangling themselves in his dark hair. He doubted he would ever get used to it, but he readily accepted her affections, touching her jaw gently with one hand, the other resting comfortably on her waist.

It was several seconds before Brielle broke the kiss, but she rested her brow against his, running the tip of her nose against his affectionately. “I think I win  _ every _ time,” she murmured thickly, her half-lidded eyes watching him closely. He arched a brow, as though challenging her words.

“Is that so?” he returned huskily, lips hovering against hers, as though making to kiss her again. Though Brielle knew his game, she still fell for it, lips parting and ready to receive him. Loghain chuckled, amused.

“ _ Mhm _ .” A brazen grin curved her lips as she regarded Loghain, pulling away to better look into his piercing blue eyes. “I  _ can _ show you,” she continued, quirking a brow suggestively. “But preferably when we’re  _ far away  _ from Vigil’s Keep. What do you say to that, Loghain?”

He considered her quietly, running his fingers along the length of her jaw. He tugged her closer, kissing her once more, and pulling from her a satisfied hum. He looked at her with unashamed awe, as though she were just a dream that he dare not believe was true.

“What are we waiting for?” he murmured, his brow pressed to Brielle’s. “Let’s ride.”


End file.
